


The Western Passage

by LittleWhisperer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Blood Drinking, Drama, Eventual Smut, Heavy Themes, Multi, Slow Burn, Survival, Vampires, like a REALLY slow burn, long journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 216,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhisperer/pseuds/LittleWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires and humans have always been bitter enemies, destined to push each other to the brink of extinction. Neither side has a clear advantage, until a group of scientists develops a genetic enhancement meant to boost the effectiveness of the human hunters. But the tragic results create an enemy that threatens to bring about the destruction of vampires and humans alike…</p><p>After the fallout, the remaining humans retreat into three strongholds: Maria, Rose, and Sina. But when Fortress Maria falls, a small band of survivors is forced to brave the thousand-mile wilderness that separates them from the safety of Fortress Rose. Dangers are everywhere, and in order to make it to their destination, the humans are forced to place their hope in one of the very creatures they've sworn to kill: a vampire. It is an uneasy alliance at first, but as time passes it begins to transform into a bond that will challenge the very nature of what it means to be enemies and the very essence of what it means to love in a world that is blinded by hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Zero

_We were so single-minded in striving for progress that we did not recognize the dangers of our actions until the damage was already done._

– Excerpt taken from the final lab entries of Dr. Hanji Zoe

**

 

“That’s it?” Farlan asked, staring down at his arm. He was waiting for the pain, for his veins to bulge where the needle had been pressed in, for fangs to descend from his canines, for _something._ But he didn’t feel any different.

The nurse smiled as she swabbed away the spot of blood that had bubbled at the injection site and pressed a small bandage over it. “Were you expecting to sprout horns or turn purple?” She teased.

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “Everybody's been so worked up about this that I just thought it would be more…eventful.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think so.” She held up her right hand. “Follow my finger with your eyes; I need to test a few basic responses.”

Farlan did as he was told, watching her gloved finger move from side to side, sticking out his tongue when she asked him to, breathing deeply as she pressed a stethoscope to various spots on his chest and back.

Finally she stepped back, done with her prodding. “You’re all finished, Farlan,” she said, gracing him with another warm smile. “Consider yourself a successful recipient of the Titan vaccine.”

He hopped down from the hospital bed. “Is that really what they’re calling it?”

She nodded, blushing slightly as her gaze flitted over his toned physique. “Well, it’s the unofficial name. The technical name is based on the vampire gene they extracted it from—the key ingredient in the formula, so to speak. It’s a lot longer and a lot harder to pronounce.” She picked up the clipboard she’d placed aside earlier and put a check next to his name. “Besides, it _is_ supposed to give you hunters titanic strength, so I think the name works.”

Farlan shrugged. “If you say so, although I think it's kinda bland. Sounds like something a bunch of stuffy pencil pushers came up with.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Mr. Judgmental. If you think the name's so boring, what would you call it instead?”

Farlan crossed his arms, pretending to ponder it. “Hm…something flashy, for sure. Maybe ‘V Power’, or ‘Fang-xplosion’. Something with a punch.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Yes, because those options are clearly superior.”

His good humor never wavered. “I think so too,” he said, ignoring her obvious sarcasm. He sidled closer. “You know, for the sake of science, we should really see if this vaccine makes _everything_ stronger. What do you say you and I go—”

She whacked him with her clipboard, even as she suppressed a smirk. “Out,” she said, pointing towards the door. “Before I stick you with the biggest needle I can find for that comment.”

He held up his hands in defeat. “I’m going, I’m going,” he insisted, grinning as he headed for the exit. “Offer still stands,” he called over his shoulder, giving the blushing nurse a wink before he pushed open the door.

The waiting room at the Trost Clinic was a quiet place on any given day, but today, Farlan thought, it was quieter than usual – and not for lack of people. The line of Legion hunters waiting to receive the Titan vaccine was longer than it had been when Farlan had been called into the back, stretching almost to the double-wide exit doors at the other end, but aside from the small clusters of people whispering amongst themselves, the large space was as silent as a tomb.

He found Isabel close to the front, fidgeting badly and looking just as nervous as the people around her. While a few of his fellow hunters seemed to share Farlan’s confidence, it didn't appear that Isabel was one of them.

She saw him and waved him over. “You’re done already?” She whispered as he reached her. She chewed on her bottom lip. “How was it? How do you feel?”

“Fine. It was quick and painless—honestly. You’ll be in and out before you know it.”

"Great," she muttered, not looking the least bit relieved. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes dropped to the ground. “In and out before I know it," she echoed softly.

Farlan tipped her chin up. “Hey. Iz, look at me.” She did, trepidation heavy in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

She nodded vigorously, and Farlan knew she was overcompensating to hide how scared she was. He sighed. “You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, Iz. You signed up, but it’s still not too late to have the docs take your name off the list. We can go tell them you changed your mind and then we can walk out of here together, right now.”

“No.” Her cheeks puffed slightly as she exhaled. “I’m not backing out. I volunteered, same as you, and I’m gonna get the damn shot, same as you. I just…” She pouted. “I wish Big Bro was here.”

Farlan squeezed her shoulder. “I know,” he said softly. “Me too.” But Levi had been adamant about refusing to participate, even after Farlan’s repeated attempts to change his mind.

_If you want to be a lab rat for those shitty doctors, that’s your choice. But I’m not letting them stick some dirty needle in my arm. I don’t trust them, and I don’t trust their experiments._

Levi’s blatant distaste for the vaccine had turned a lot of hunters against it and made a lot more question it, Isabel included. Anytime one of the Reapers voiced an opinion on something, everyone else listened. And because Levi was indisputably the most lethal of the Elite Five (Elite _Four_ , Farlan corrected himself sadly), the other Legion hunters held him in high esteem, none more so than Isabel. To her, Levi's words were pretty much gospel. She’d been as excited to participate in the first round of vaccination trials as Farlan was, until Levi had told her she was being a fool. She’d second-guessed her decision then, just as she was doing now.

Farlan's thoughts were interrupted as the door he’d emerged from minutes ago opened. The same pretty nurse that had administered his vaccine stepped out, clipboard in hand. “Lee, David!” She read, her eyes scanning the room for the man she'd called.

The hunter in question walked forward, looking almost as pale as the white shirt he wore. The nurse gave him an encouraging smile as he passed by her, and she winked at Farlan before she let the door swing shut behind her.

Huh. Maybe his offer hadn’t been such a turn-off after all. He’d have to remember to swing by the clinic for a check-up when he got back from the next hunt.

When he turned his attention back to Isabel, she was staring at the two people who were waiting in front of her, still biting her lip. “Do you think Big Bro’s right?” She finally asked. “Do you think we’re making a mistake?”

Farlan frowned. “No,” he answered, “I don’t. If we never take any risks, nothing will change. If this vaccine lives up to its expectations, it could help us eradicate the vampires once and for all." He lowered his voice. "Imagine it, Iz: a world free of fear, free of killing. Our lives could be so different. We could move somewhere else, get real jobs...maybe even help Levi open that tea shop he swears he doesn't really want.”

That managed to coax a small smile out of her. She nodded. “You’re right. Guess it’s worth getting a stupid shot for, huh?”

“I think so.” He tugged gently on one of her lopsided pigtails. “I’ll wait for you outside, okay? Just come find me when you’re done.”

Isabel grabbed his arm. “Could you wait with me until I get called back?” Her cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not afraid or anything, I just don’t want to be alone. Nobody’s talking and it’s boring.”

Farlan's lips curled up fondly in a smile he reserved solely for her. “Sure, Iz. No problem.”

He distracted her by talking about Theo, a hunter in one of the other squads she’d been crushing on for months. Farlan thought he was kind of a dick, but Iz always seemed to have stars in her eyes when he was around, and who was he to spoil her fun? Besides, Theo would never dream of hurting her, not with Levi around. Farlan was intimidating enough, but as soon as anyone found out that Isabel kept company with the strongest Reaper since Damon’s time, they were more than model citizens around her. The transformation of Isabel’s suitors from thugs and rough-and-tumble sorts to upstanding gentlemen under Levi’s watchful eye never ceased to amaze Farlan.

“Magnolia, Isabel!”

Isabel gulped. “Wish me luck,” she muttered.

“Good luck. You won’t need it, though. Promise.” He nudged her forward when she failed to move. “Go on. I’ll be just outside.”

He waited until she had disappeared into the back, and then he made a beeline for the exit. Outside, the day was clear and bright, the spring air fresh and welcoming. He inhaled deeply, thankful for the mood change.

_If anything happens to Isabel, I’m holding you accountable. You’re the one who put this bullshit idea in her head._

Levi’s words returned to him unbidden, dampening his happiness, but Farlan chased them away. Nothing was going to happen to Isabel - or him - for that matter. The scientists that had developed the vaccine had studied the genetic samples for years and conducted numerous successful trials before deeming it safe for human subjects. There was no reason to be afraid.

His fingers ghosted over the small bandage on his arm. A few drops of blood had stained the middle of the fabric, less significant than a paper cut. It didn’t hurt to the touch, and Farlan still felt no different than he had before he’d received the vaccine.

_Everyone is worrying too much about one measly little shot. They'll all be joking in a week when the results are way more underwhelming than all of the hype.  
_

If anything, Farlan wouldn’t be surprised if the vaccine hardly produced any changes at all.

 

**

The forest was quiet, peaceful, and Mikasa’s only companion for miles around was the slender doe that had wandered into the clearing below. Mikasa watched from her perch in the trees as the animal bent its neck to drink at the small creek that ran through the glen, admiring the way the dappled rays of sunlight peeking through the treetop canopy warmed her tawny skin.

The doe quenched her thirst and continued on her way, never realizing that the most dangerous predator in the woods was watching her every move. Not that Mikasa would ever harm her; she didn’t kill innocent creatures.

She saved her fangs and her blood thirst for the humans.

Mikasa dropped down from the trees, landing silently on the ground. It was a fall that could have broken a human’s legs, but Mikasa barely registered the impact. A vampire's bones and joints were made to withstand much more than a twenty-meter drop. And yet vampires, like humans, still succumbed to the slice of steel and the kiss of arrows.

Mikasa stepped towards the creek as the doe had, letting the soft sunlight land on her skin. Her pale arms looked almost translucent in the muted rays, much different than the warm-blooded animal's skin had looked. For a moment, Mikasa wondered what it would feel like to be warmed by the sunlight as the doe had been.

But she would never know.

Humans of old had called her people _the cold ones_ for a reason; It was an apt, albeit unforgiving, description.

Walking on silent feet, Mikasa began to make her way towards home. She picked up her pace as she headed deeper into the forest, more to feel the rush of air on her face than because she was in any kind of hurry. The wind caressed her skin and made her clothing ripple back against her body, and as Mikasa raced quickly through the forest, swift and sure, it felt almost like she was flying.

 _If only I were a bird,_ she thought wistfully. _Then I would truly be_ _able to soar._

She wasn't, of course, but she could indulge her imagination. She began to concentrate and slow her breathing, and then, when she was sure she was ready, Mikasa closed her eyes, relying on her other senses to guide her through the trees. Her feet and ears became her eyes, picking up on the vibrations and sounds all around her, and Mikasa made her way without ever faltering.

 _Seeing without eyes,_ her grandmother had once called it. It was a gift that not all vampires possessed, but the women in her family had all been able to do it. Mikasa had first walked blindfolded through the forest around her village when she was only seven, the youngest vampire to ever do so. Her people had called her a prodigy.

It was one of the reasons she had such liberties, Mikasa knew. Because of her profound skills and potential, the elders made exceptions for her that were denied to others. She was one of the only vampires permitted beyond the limits of their village aside from the men tasked with blood recovery and the warriors trained to fight the humans, and while she was not yet a warrior herself, she'd been granted permission to accompany the warriors on a few of their raids—where her true talents had become apparent. Mikasa was still young among the people of her clan, and yet she had already dispatched two hunters.

It was a feat that had not gone unnoticed. _When you are old enough and have gained the experience you need_ , her father had told her once, _you will take my place as Guardian. It is not an easy task, but I know you will rise to it all the same. It's in your blood, Mikasa_.

She'd never felt more pride than in that moment.

As quickly as she'd fallen into her memories, Mikasa was jarred out of them when her foot landed in a soft patch of earth and she felt something strange—a vibration to her left that shouldn’t have been there. Her eyes snapped open and she stilled, instantly on alert.

There was a scent on the breeze, a familiar one.

_Grandmother?_

Mikasa changed direction, trying to ignore the voice in the back of her mind telling her that something was wrong, that her grandmother shouldn’t be out so far from the village.

She ran faster, her muscles working as the forest sloped sharply upwards.

When she crested the hill, she froze, her fear breaking into panic. “Grandmother!” She cried, rushing over to where the grey-haired woman was sprawled on the forest floor.

She was lying face down, and Mikasa gently rolled her over, cradling her head in her lap as she did so.

Her grandmother looked terrible. Blood was streaming from her eyes, filling the wizened cracks of her face as they rolled towards her chin, and her whole body was shaking—and from the awful grimace creasing her brow, Mikasa knew it was from pain.

_She's dying._

The reality of her grandmother's condition hit Mikasa like a spear to the chest, and she swallowed down a sob as tears welled in her eyes. “Grandmother,” she breathed, "what happened?"

The old woman’s bloodstained eyes found hers. “Mikasa," she murmured thickly. "We…were attacked. Hunters came.”

"Hunters... in the village?" It didn't make sense; the humans had never ventured so far into the woods before. _T_ _hese hunters must be bolder than the others,_ Mikasa thought, her fear turning to rage. “I’ll kill them,” she vowed. “I can go to the village now and—”

“No.” Her grandmother coughed. “Mikasa, you can’t fight them. These hunters…they’re not like any I’ve seen before.” Her shaking worsened. “They were stronger, faster, and they… _they knew about our hearts_. They clawed half of them from the ground before we realized it.”

Mikasa’s breath caught. For centuries, the humans had been ignorant of the vampires’ greatest secret. But now, if they knew the truth…

Terror shook her bones. “I _have_ to go to the village, Grandmother," she said desperately. "I will protect our hearts and help Father—”

“Mikasa, it’s too late. Your parents…my _son”_ \- her voice cracked – “they’re already gone.”

“No.” Mikasa shook her head. She refused to believe that. She _couldn’t_ believe that.

But the heartbroken expression on her grandmother's face told her it was true. “I'm sorry, Mikasa. I'm so sorry." Watery tears rolled down her face alongside the bloody ones. "It’s too late for them, for me, but you...you still have a chance.” She reached forward and pressed something soft into Mikasa's hands. “There was so much chaos and fighting that I managed to retrieve it. I knew I didn't have time to save more than one, so I saved yours. It's what your father would have wanted.”

Mikasa looked down at the small leather pouch her grandmother had risked her life to get, her own hands shaking nearly as badly as the dying woman's.

_So small, and yet so important. My life in my hands._

The pouch was old, worn, and still tied with the same strings her mother had bound it with the day Mikasa had been born.

Mikasa didn't have to open it to know what rested inside.

“My heart,” she whispered, the tears finally falling from her eyes. She gripped it tightly, and took a deep breath, steeling herself against her emotions. Now was not the time to grieve for what was gone. “Grandmother," she tried again, "let me go to the village. I will find your heart and save you as you've saved me.”

But her grandmother shook her head sadly. “No, child. My heart has already been pierced. You know it as well as I do. I have the bleeds; it won’t be long now.”

Mikasa bottled up her pain and gently smoothed away the tangles of hair that clung to her grandmother’s face. The elderly woman had always taken pride in her hair, had even shown Mikasa how to recreate the intricate braids in her own hair. “I will stay with you,” Mikasa said, the strength in her voice belying how broken she felt.

Her grandmother reached up with one of her shaking hands and weakly touched her face. “You’ve always been so brave, Mikasa. Brave like your mother.” Her eyes closed. "Brave like your father..."

 _"Grandmother,"_ Mikasa whispered, even though she knew her words would not be heard. " _Please don't go._ "

But her grandmother was already gone.

Mikasa held the dead woman for a long moment, trembling at the grief that threatened to cripple her. But she couldn't let it, not now. Now she needed to be strong.

Steadying herself, she gently laid her grandmother down and stood up. With numb fingers, she tied the leather pouch around her neck, securing it there with a firm double knot.

And then she ran, but this time there was no joy in it. She ran because she had to, ran because she needed to see for herself, ran because there was nothing else she could do.

The humans were gone when she finally got to her village, but the carnage remained. Mikasa searched for her parents among the remains, but her search was in vain; the hunters had butchered them so badly that it was impossible to tell which of the savaged corpses belonged to her closest family members.

Not a single soul had survived.

Mikasa wanted to look away from it all, wanted to scream her rage and grief to the night sky, but it was as if her voice had deserted her and her eyes were cursed to take in every horrific detail, to sear every aspect of the bloody massacre into her memory.

It was worse than anything she’d ever seen before. Her people hadn’t been slain with blades; they’d been ripped apart like animals and left in pieces, carelessly strewn like garbage.

Mikasa couldn’t leave them like that.

It took hours for her to assemble a pyre and hours longer to make sure all of her people were accounted for, but she did it, somehow managing to hold herself together long enough to do what she needed to do. She spoke the proper words over their bodies before lighting the fire and then stepped back, watching as everyone she'd ever cared about burned to ash.

"I will avenge you," she whispered to the bones of her people. "I swear it. I will bleed the humans dry for this. Every last one of them."

Her black eyes glittered in the firelight, cold and resolute, her body still as stone. She would never be Guardian, and yet she kept watch over her people as the night dragged on.

When at last the fire went out and the crackle of flames faded into silence, Mikasa fell to her knees and wept.

 

**

"Storm's coming."

Erwin paused at Mike’s words, closing the slender logbook he’d been perusing to survey the weather. It certainly didn’t _look_ like a storm was coming. Above, the sky was clear and bright and blue, the sunny spring afternoon not impeded by so much as a single cloud. The rays of the sun were strong and luminous as they stretched towards the ground, and blossoming buds and new leaves blew gently in the soft breeze all across the valley, swaying in an easy dance that filled the air with quiet, calming rustling. In the distance, Erwin could hear the lilting trill of birds.

It was one of those days that could lighten even the gloomiest of moods, a harbinger of the warm, long summer days ahead—not of an impending storm.

And yet Erwin had known Mike long enough to trust the man’s uncanny instincts. He stood up and dusted his pants off, sighing. He found so few opportunities to spend time outside and he’d been hoping to at least wile away a few more hours beneath the shade of the giant oak on this rare, obligation-free afternoon.

But such was life. Perhaps there would be time some other day.

“I suppose we should head back,” he said, turning away from the sweeping view of the valley and back towards the long gravel road that led into town. “I want to be indoors before the rain comes.”

Mike shook his head, his lips quirking down in a solemn frown. “It’s not that kind of storm,” he said.

The cryptic comment made Erwin frown. “What do you mean? What kind of storm is it?”

Mike wrinkled his nose. “The kind that doesn’t end.”

The crunch of gravel prevented Erwin from posing a follow-up question, and both men turned towards the road at the sound. A lone figure was running towards them, their gait choppy and uneven, every few steps broken by a lurching stumble.

It made the hairs on Erwin’s neck rise in alarm.

“It’s Nile,” Mike offered, and sure enough, it was.

Erwin’s sense of alarm increased. Nile shouldn’t have returned yet. He had been commanding the group that had left two days earlier, the mission aimed at testing out the newly enhanced hunters. If they’d returned so soon, something must have gone wrong.

Erwin began jogging towards him. He called his name once, twice, but the other man gave no sign that he heard. Then, suddenly, Nile collapsed, his body sending up a cloud of dirt as he hit the ground.

Erwin sprinted the last few steps towards him, but he stopped short when he finally reached him, staring down at him in shock. “Go get someone from medical,” he said to Mike. “Hurry.”

He could only assume the other man did as he asked, because he never looked over at him. Erwin’s eyes were riveted on the bloody mess that was left of Nile Dawk.

There were bite marks everywhere, though they were like no vampire bites Erwin had ever seen. Chunks of Nile’s flesh had been chewed at and torn away, and the puncture wounds weren’t confined to his arteries; they covered his chest and arms—deep gouges that were still seeping blood. One of his earlobes had been bitten off and what was left of his tattered clothing was soaked with blood and gore. His eyes were closed, and for a second Erwin thought the man was dead, until he noticed the shallow rising and falling motion of his chest.

He swallowed a mouthful of bile and knelt down beside him. “Nile,” he said gently, “can you hear me?”

Nile’s eyes opened wide at the sound of his voice and Erwin could see terror in them. “Fuck,” Nile choked, a gobbet of blood flying from his mouth as he coughed. Erwin helped him sit up, supporting his back as the man gave into a violent coughing fit. After the last one wracked his body, he shuddered. “Fuck,” he said again. “We’re fucked.” His voice was raw with fear, and he kept licking his chapped lips. “We should have known, Erwin; we should have _known_ …”

His words dissolved into another round of coughs, each bringing up more spots of blood than the last. Erwin cursed, mentally willing Mike to hurry.

When the coughing finally ceased, Erwin placed a steadying hand on the wounded man’s shaking shoulder. “Nile, I know you’ve lost a lot of blood, but I need you to focus on my voice and answer my questions. Where are the others—are they alive? Dead?”

His head bobbed. “Alive but dead. Dead but alive. No one fucking knows.” He gave a nearly hysterical snort, a glob of blood and spit flying from his mouth.

 _He must be in shock._ Erwin had seen it before in soldiers, right before the end.  

He tried again, with a different question. “How many vampires attacked you?” If it had been a large enough brood and they’d been deadly enough to take out a group of trained hunters, it was also possible that they would be bold enough to try and overrun the town.

But Nile shook his head. “None. It… wasn’t vampires.”

 _Not vampires?_ Erwin didn't know what to make of that.

Before he could ask, Nile continued. “It was us,” he croaked. “Our people.” He was overcome by more ragged coughs, each one accompanied by ribbons of bright blood. “They went fucking rabid, all of them.” He grabbed onto Erwin’s collar with surprising strength, yanking the blond man forward. “Warn them,” he said, eyes boring into Erwin’s. “The Titan vaccine…it made them worse, worse than the vampires. Fuck, Erwin. We should never have tried to play God. This will destroy us. Our own hunters…they’ll kill us all.”

His voice faded to nothing and his hands loosened from Erwin’s collar as his eyes closed. His head lolled forward.

“Nile?” Erwin felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

A chill crept up his spine in spite of the afternoon’s warmth.

“Commander Smith!” A female voice called from behind him. He turned, just in time to see a frizzy-haired young doctor come hastening towards him. She had a small medical bag clutched beneath one arm. “Captain Zacharius said that you needed…” Her sentence cut off abruptly, her brown eyes widening as she stared at the patient she was too late to help. The medical bag tumbled to the ground and landed at her feet. “W-what…” she stammered, “What happened to him?”

Erwin retrieved the medical bag from the ground and stood, handing it back to her. “That isn’t something you need to worry about right now,” he said, surprised at how even his voice was. “Go report to Dr. Hanji Zoe. Tell her that Commander Nile Dawk has been killed in the line of duty and that until further notice, no more of the Titan vaccine is to be administered. Under any circumstance. Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” She was still staring at Nile’s body.

“ _Go_ ,” Erwin said with enough force to snap her out of her fear-addled stupor.

She turned and ran.

_I need to assemble the Council. They have to know what’s happened._

The only problem was, Erwin wasn’t sure exactly what _had_ happened. Nile had been in shock and barely coherent. It was possible that he’d only imagined the other hunters attacking him, that the things he’d thought were his comrades were no more than ferocious vampires.

_But if that is true, where are the others…?_

A sudden flock of birds erupted from a tree in the direction Nile had come from, sending up a blare of squawks to the sky as they took flight. To Erwin, it sounded like a warning.

 _They're_ _coming_ , they seemed to be shouting at him _. They're coming._  

Filled with a sense of foreboding, Erwin left Nile's body where it lay in the dirt and ran towards town.

 

**

For one blissful second, Kenny Ackerman ignored everything except the pleasant burn of alcohol sliding down his throat. It was single malt scotch, old and smoky, and it left hints of oak and caramel on his tongue in the wake of the burn. The taste was satisfying, simple, and expected—the polar opposite of the shit show that was his life.

_Alcohol, my faithful friend, reliable to the end._

Kenny drank until he’d drained his glass and then slapped it down on the table with a sigh, half tempted to pour himself another drink. He picked up the bottle, his thumb brushing idly over the worn label and faded letters. It was a reserve he’d intended to save for a day of celebration, and yet here he was, cracking it open for the second time in as many years for a reason so far removed from celebration it was laughable.

_Hunters turning on hunters...what the hell is this world coming to?_

They hadn't seen the mutant-humans in Trost yet, but over the past week, reports had come in from three outlying districts, each one boasting a bloodier tale than the last. Civilians being torn apart, rabid once-hunters descending in packs and attacking entire villages, cannibalism, slaughter, infection...the list went on and on. And out in Karanese, where the implementation of the Titan vaccine had been spearheaded, word had come that Commander Dawk had led an army of the altered humans into the district capital and massacred nearly the entire population. Kenny wasn't sure how much of any of that was accurate, but if even half of the reports were true, humanity was in for one hell of a fucking nightmare.

_If I didn't want a drink before..._

Toying with temptation, Kenny tilted the bottle of scotch towards his glass – just far enough so that he could watch the amber liquid begin to move down the bottleneck towards the rim – before he righted it and set it back down on the table.  

He didn’t put it away, though; chances were more than good he’d be in desperate need of another drink after he talked to his nephew. May as well be proactive and leave the scotch where it would be most accessible.

He didn’t bother locking the door to his quarters on his way out. No one would be fool enough to try anything, and even if some moron did decide to break in, it wouldn’t really matter. They’d all be leaving Trost and the barracks they’d learned to call home soon enough anyway, and Kenny had no intentions of packing his belongings and taking them with him. He'd take what he needed and leave the rest. If someone decided to rob him, they'd just be saving him the trouble of dumping his shit in the garbage.

Kenny was halfway down the hall when it dawned on him that he was walking the wrong way. He cursed his mistake, his black mood souring further. As if all this current shit wasn’t bad enough, his stupid muscle memory had to send him in the direction of Jocelyn’s quarters.

A year ago they’d been as much Levi’s quarters as hers, but now…now the rooms were just full of dust and fading memories. He would never find Levi there, not now, and not ever again.

When Kenny did finally locate him twenty minutes later, it was all too obvious that the news Commander Zacklay had tasked him to share had already made its way to Levi, judging by the undone state of his usually immaculate room. Perhaps one of the other Reapers had shared it, perhaps someone else. Kenny wasn’t sure how many Legion members the Commander had spoken to yet, but gossip always seemed to travel quickly in their barracks.

Levi was sitting in a chair by the window of his bedroom, polishing a set of throwing knives. The rest of his weapons were spread out on his bed: swords, machetes, hunting knives, darts, arrows, and a handful of grenades. There was also a double-headed axe propped up beside his bed and a distinctive, bladed boomerang with wickedly serrated edges resting on the windowsill. It was an impressive weapons collection, more diverse than what even the other Reapers used, and Kenny knew that Levi was more than capable of wielding each and every one at a lethal level.

He’d come a long way from the time Kenny had first put a knife in his hand and taught him how to use it.

“So you've heard the latest, I take it,” Kenny stated. "And you know about our marching orders?"

Levi didn’t bother looking up. “I do.” He placed one of the knives aside and picked up another. “So you can save your words for someone who cares. Close the door on your way out and let me pack in peace.”

Kenny leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “You excel at being a little shit stain, do you know that?”

“I learned from the best,” came the deadpan reply.

Kenny pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from shouting, a common occurrence whenever he had to converse with Levi. His relationship to his nephew was strained at the best of times, always had been, but Kenny still cared about the little twerp, despite his consistently abrasive demeanor. And now was not the time to get into a fight with him.

“Levi.”

Finally, his nephew looked up. His narrow eyes were bloodshot, his expression hollow. “What?”

Kenny pursed his lips. “I know it’s hard, but what’s done is done. Your friends made their choice. Ain’t nothin’ you can do to make it right.” Kenny straightened. “But there are still people here that need you, don’t forget. There are only four Reapers left, and you're the only of 'em being sent to Fortress Maria. The others will get split between Rose and Sina. You and me…people will be looking up to us in the days ahead. You can’t take your baggage with you.”

“I know that, Kenny. You don’t need to give me some fucking speech about ‘what’s done is done’.” He grimaced. “I already learned that lesson.”

The pain and weight in that last sentence hit Kenny hard, even though he didn’t let it show. _First Jocelyn, and now Farlan and Isabel. He’s hangin' by a thread._

But Kenny had struggled with similar losses all his life, and the best remedy he knew (aside from drinking copious amounts of alcohol) was to have a sense of purpose. He might not be able to give his nephew a comforting shoulder to cry on – and heaven knows what the fuck Levi would do if he ever tried to be warm and fuzzy with him anyway – but he could give him something to live for, a renewed sense of hate-fueled purpose.

“That’s all I’ll say about it, then,” Kenny said. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Now finish packing, and make sure you leave room for some clothes beside all these weapons. I didn’t raise you to fight naked.”

Levi twirled the knife in his hand and flashed Kenny a disparaging look. “Kicking me out when I was six and telling me to ‘be a fucking man about it’ hardly qualifies as raising me, Kenny. But don’t worry; I’m as fond of my clothing as I am of my weapons.” He stood up, intelligence shining in his cool grey eyes. “Now tell me why you’re still here, because I know it has nothing to do with my packing skills.”

Kenny snorted at that. "Fair enough. I wanted to let you know that when we get to Maria, I’m going to teach you something new.”

That seemed to spark Levi’s interest, even if it didn’t lift the heaviness from his eyes. “Oh?” He arched a brow. “I thought you already taught me everything you know.”

“ _Almost_ everything. There are a few hunting myths I kept to myself because they’ve never been proven. But I think you might be the right person to put them to the test.” Kenny fingered the straggly ends of his beard. “Just because we’ll probably have to deal with the fallout from this Titan vaccine disaster doesn’t mean our age-old enemy won’t still be lurking nearby. The vampires will always be a problem.” He smiled. “So how would you like to learn a new way to kill them—a way that’s a lot more personal than the slashing and hacking you’re used to?”

Levi’s eyes flitted briefly to the boomerang on the windowsill – the final gift that Jocelyn had given him – before he turned his gaze back to Kenny. “I’d like that very much,” he answered, each quietly uttered word enforced with steely bite. There was hatred in Levi’s eyes where moments before there had been only sadness and grief, and that gave Kenny hope.

_Hold onto that hatred, Levi, and you’ll survive. Hold onto that hatred, and you'll always have something to live for.  
_

A frantic knocking sounded at the door to Levi's outer quarters. "Levi! You still in there?"

Levi pushed past Kenny and walked out into the main room. "Door's unlocked, Thom."

His fellow Reaper swung it open with such force that it rattled against the wall with a bang, not that he seemed to notice. Tension was radiating from his wiry frame. "We've got problems," he said. His eyes landed on Kenny and widened. "Captain Ackerman!" He punctuated the exclamation with a hasty salute.

Kenny grunted. "Can it, Thom. What problems?"

"Titans." The Reaper directed his answer at Levi, which could have irked Kenny but didn't; Kenny might be an official officer, but Levi was the unspoken leader that the Reapers - and many of the other Legion hunters - rallied behind. The only reason he wasn't an officer in his own right was because Commander Zacklay was none too fond of his _unfortunately delinquent_ attitude.

Levi frowned. "Titans...?" He repeated slowly, as if testing the word. Then it seemed to dawn on him. "The altered hunters."

Thom's dark expression mirrored Levi's. "Yeah," he said. " _Them_. They've been spotted less than a day's ride from here. Our evacuation schedule's been bumped up. We have one hour."

Levi nodded. "Have you told the others?"

"No, I came to you first."

"Go tell them now. Start with Duncan and Rita and have them pass it along to everyone else, then meet me at the stables."

Thom didn't ask for details. He gave Kenny another salute and disappeared back out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

Kenny quirked a brow at Levi. "What's cookin' in that head of yours?"

Levi walked back into his bedroom and began efficiently packing up his weapons. "I'll stay behind with the other Reapers, form a rear guard. If the hunters—" he caught himself "— if the _titans_ show up, we'll stop them from following you and the others."

Kenny watched him tuck a few blades into the loops on his belt, feeling a small kernel of pride. His nephew's idea was a good one.

"Alright. I'll round up the rest of the officers and see if we can get this herd of sheep moving." He strode to the door. "Don't get yourself killed," he said over his shoulder. He didn't stick around to see if Levi would bother replying to that.

An hour wasn't going to be enough time to evacuate the entire barracks or the town around it, let alone the entire district. Trost was a huge place.

Cursing, Kenny picked up his pace, thinking that he should have poured himself that second drink when he'd had the chance.

 

 

 


	2. The Fall of Maria

_Casualties sustained in the human population: 46%, not including those infected. Known percentage of infected persons in the human population: 29%. Percentage of immune/ uninfected persons in the human population: 21%, including both those who have and have not received preventative vaccinations. Individuals unaccounted for: 4%, all presumed dead or infected. Casualty and infection rates among the vampire population: unknown._

\- Statistics taken from Governor Reiss' abridged census, dated Year 5 A.T.

**

 

 _The shadows look like vampires,_ Cody Ral thought as she crept quietly along the outermost perimeter fence.

She of course had no idea what _actual_ vampires looked like, but the late afternoon shadows on the ground were stretching towards her, their jagged edges reaching out like clawed hands, and Cody figured that vampires probably had claws that looked kind of like that. That was how all the older kids – the ones who had been born outside of the fortresses – talked about them. They said vampires had claws as long as butcher knives and fangs that could bite you all the way through in one go. Cody didn’t really understand how teeth so long could fit comfortably in anyone’s mouth, but every time she tried to ask someone about it they just told her to shut up. Eventually she’d given up asking.

The hole in the fence was exactly fifty steps away from the airshaft, and Cody slipped through it as easily as she’d crawled through the rattling air vents to get outside.

Maria had a number of airshafts, most of them big and well sealed, but Cody’s airshaft was older and smaller than the others, and no one had noticed when she’d unscrewed one of the vent protectors and crawled inside. The vents were a maze, but since all mazes had an exit if you just knew where to look, Cody had bribed Willie (she’d had to do his stupid art projects for a month) to nick a map of the vent layout. His dad worked on one of the maintenance crews, and he had access to all sorts of…Cody tried to remember the word… _was it bloodprints, redprints?_ Well, whatever it was called, Willie’s dad had had the one she'd needed, and Cody had used it to find her way out of the maze and onto the grounds outside of the fortress. She’d still been stuck within the fence, but it had felt like freedom anyway.

And then she’d discovered the hole in the perimeter fence fifty paces away and taken her first step in the true outside world.

At first she’d snuck out just to prove she could, but she’d continued sneaking out because she loved watching the hunters practice. Her mother would kill her if she ever found out, but Cody thought it was worth the risk. Besides, it wasn’t like she had to venture into the woods to find them. The hunters didn’t stray too far from the fence; their outdoor gym of sorts was tucked back in a glen maybe a quarter-mile from Maria, well away from the deeper woods and old road systems. There was talk of titans in the area, but no one had ever actually seen any, so Cody figured it was probably safe.

She made her way to the hunter’s clearing without even a pinch of fear, stepping on the shadows as she went and pretending that she was crushing vampires beneath her heels.

When she got to the glen, she stayed crouched down, hiding in the bushes so she could watch without interrupting.

Today they were throwing knives.

Cody watched as the male hunter stepped up, took aim, and released his knife. The blade arced through the air with a twirl and landed with a deep _thunk_ in the center of the target pinned to the tree trunk.

“Ha! Bull’s-eye! That’s three in a row.” He gave a satisfied huff. “Let’s see you beat that, Ymir.”

The other hunter stepped forward, a cocky smirk dancing across her lips. She held up her right hand, three smaller knives already wedged between her fingers. “How about three at once?”

The first hunter snorted. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Ymir lunged forward and threw her knives, twisting her hand with a nimble flick and sending all three blades hurling towards the target. A second later, all three of them landed within the small center circle.

“Told ya.” She stepped back and smiled. “Face it, Mule: I’ll always be just a little better than you.”

“More like luckier,” came the mumbled reply.

She laughed and then looked over her shoulder, straight at the spot where Cody was hiding. “What do you think, Cody? Luck or skill?”

 _They heard me?_ Cody clambered out from behind the bush, pouting. “I thought I was quieter this time,” she said dejectedly as she picked a bramble from her auburn hair.

“You were,” Ymir said. “Not totally silent, but definitely quieter than Mule is whenever he tries to sneak around.”

“Hey!”

Ymir shrugged. “Just being honest.”

Cody tuned out their bickering, looking down at the few knives still waiting to be thrown at the target. A familiar itch started to tug at her. “Can I try?” She asked.

“Huh?” They both looked down at her.

Cody puffed out her chest, trying to look confident. “I want to try throwing knives like you guys.”

“Uh…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mule said, frowning. “I mean, for starters, your mom would _kill_ us, and so would Cap…”

Cody rolled her eyes, wondering why adults worried so much about everything. “They don’t need to know! I'm good at keeping secrets."

He snorted. "Five-year-old kids aren't good at anything."

"I'm six, not five. And I'll be really careful! Please, Mule? Just this one time?”

Ymir sighed. “Oh, let her. If the kid’s clever enough to sneak out of Maria and brave enough to go beyond the perimeter, I think she can handle throwing a knife.”

Mule relented. “Fine,” he groaned, exasperated, and Cody tried very hard not to squeal with happiness as he picked up one of the smallest knives and held it out to her. “Here.” He turned it in her palm so that she was loosely clutching the blade. “Hold it like that. And don’t call me Mule.”

Cody frowned. “But that’s what Ymir calls you.”

“Yeah, but she’s a dick so she gets away with it. My name’s Jean. You stick with that. Got it?”

Cody bobbed her head, her attention already focused on the slight weight of the knife in her hand. The blade had initially felt cool against her palm, but now it was warmer, heated by her skin. “Now what?”

“First, you need to grip the blade between your thumb and forefinger—yeah, good. Hold it firm, but not too tight, okay? Then...”

Jean's words tapered off into silence, and before Cody could ask why, she heard it too— _it_ being a strange, thunderous noise in the distance that she couldn't identify. But whatever it was, it made Jean and Ymir visibly stiffen beside her. Both of them turned towards the sound, fearful expressions clouding their usually calm faces.

 _Something's wrong._ "What is that?" Cody whispered. The hairs on her arms were doing that funny thing where they all decided to stick straight up at the same time.

Jean swallowed. "I think..." He began, gaze still fixed somewhere off in the distance, "I think it's—"

"We need to find Cap," Ymir said, effectively cutting him off. "Now." There was an edge to her voice that Cody had never heard before, but she didn't have time to figure out what it meant because Ymir was suddenly tugging her by the arm. "C'mon," the tall hunter said curtly. "We need to get back inside."

"I'll get the weapons," Jean said, already running over to where the majority of the throwing knives were still embedded in the tree. He began yanking them out, his hands shaking slightly, his eyes darting into the forest around them every few seconds.

"Shouldn't we wait for him?" Cody asked as she was forcibly pulled out of the clearing.

"No. He'll catch up."

The din was getting louder, closer, and suddenly, Cody knew what she was hearing.

It was the distant rumbling of hundreds of running feet.

The small throwing knife was still in her hand, and Cody gripped it so hard her fingers began to ache. "It's vampires, isn't it?" She breathed.

But Ymir shook her head. "No," she said, picking up the pace. "It's titans."

 

**

Connie poked at his food, jiggling the gelatinous goop with the tines of his fork. “The hell is this even supposed to be?” He muttered, glaring at his plate.

Sasha swallowed the bite she’d been chewing and sighed. “I’m not really sure. Maybe some kind of potato pie?”

Connie continued his prodding, looking unconvinced. “Maybe. But potatoes aren’t supposed to be so…so wobbly.”

Sasha pouted, putting her own fork down. “I can’t even remember what real potatoes taste like.” _Or real anything,_ she thought sadly. All the food in Maria tasted like thick, unidentifiable jelly or runny beans. You’d think that after five years, the so-called genetic farmers would have come up with something mildly edible, but no. The lab-grown food and preservatives were as disgusting now as they had been since the first day within the fortress walls.

But there was no point in complaining about it; it wasn’t like they could just go outside and hunt or fish.

The clatter of Connie’s fork hitting his tray pulled her from her thoughts.

Sasha took in his wide-eyed excitement with a frown. “What’s that look for?”

He grinned, pushing his chair back and standing with more enthusiasm than he’d had all day long. “It’s a cake day,” he said.

Sasha turned, her long ponytail swinging. Sure enough, Norma was stocking the buffet with small slices of her famous cake—the only food item in all of Maria that actually tasted as it was described: rich, flavorful carrot cake, complete with a thin layer of icing.

“Do you want me to get you—”

Sasha was out of her seat in a flash. “No—I’ll get them.” She eyed his tray. “Finish your dinner,” she ordered.

Connie grumbled but sat down, and Sasha made a beeline for the buffet table.

Despite the gaggle of people descending on the cake, Norma spotted her instantly and came over with three slices of cake clutched in her knobby hands. She deposited them into Sasha’s arms with a smile. “Here you are, dear. One for the boyfriend and two for you, same as always.”

Sasha returned the elderly woman’s smile. “Thanks, Norma. You’re the best.”

The baker clucked. “Nonsense. I’m merely returning a kindness; that poultice you make for me does wonders for my arthritis. A little extra cake is hardly much repayment.”

Sasha looked down at the homemade dessert. “I don’t think you understand how good your cake is,” she said honestly.

Norma guffawed and clapped her on the back. “I’m glad you like it!” She said, and then she was moving away, swatting at an impish-looking boy trying to steal two slices from the edge of the table.

Sasha made her way back to where Connie was sitting, smiling when she saw that he’d managed to scarf down most of his dinner. She put one of the cake-laden plates in front of him. “Here ya go, dork. Enjoy.”

He looked first at the cake, then at her. “You’re not staying?”

Sasha shook her head. “It’s a cake day,” she stated, wondering how it was possible that Connie always seemed to forget what that meant.

Realization dawned on him. “Right,” he said. “I’ll just meet you back at your room, then.”

“Okay. I won’t be long.”

Outside of the mess hall, the fortress was quiet, and as Sasha made her way down the corridors of Level C, she didn’t run into a single soul.

Finally, she reached the stairwell that led to the unused lower level, the large metal door still emblazoned with the words CIVILIANS NOT PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT. If the message wasn’t enough to deter most people, the large padlock on the door was, but Sasha had learned long ago that looks – and locks – could be deceiving; this one had been broken for almost three years, and, just like so many of the other worn-down, broken things in Fortress Maria, no one had ever come to replace or repair it.

Gently nudging the door with her shoulder, the stripped bolt gave way and the door creaked inward just enough for Sasha to slip through.

The lights were barely working, not doing much more than casting a ghoulish glow on the dust-coated steps, but it was enough for Sasha to see by as she made her way carefully down the stairs.

Level D was mostly used as a giant storage facility, its rooms packed with boxes and crates of things that no one used anymore. Weapons were a predominate fixture (which was why civilians weren’t allowed on the level), as were items deemed too unimportant to be placed on the higher levels but still too important to simply destroy.

In the middle of one of the most cluttered rooms, Sasha stopped, letting her eyes adjust to the relative darkness. “Jones?” She called out even though she didn’t need to. He always heard her regardless of how quiet she was.

She didn’t wait long. Less than fifteen seconds later, one of the shadows detached itself from the wall and moved towards her, walking with disquietingly silent steps.

_I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way he moves._

“Hey,” Sasha greeted the tall man, trying to hide her slight uneasiness. She held out the small dessert plate. “It’s a cake day.”

At that, the once-hunter named Clio Jones stepped into the light, snagging the plate from her with nimble fingers. “Thanks, Braus,” he said, his human eye twinkling. His mouth curved up. “What would my sweet tooth do without you?” He teased.

“Starve, probably.” She watched him pick up the cake and take a bite before propping herself up on the nearest stack of crates and digging into her own slice. “You know,” she said between bites, mouth still half-stuffed with moist carrot cake, “you could always venture upstairs and get a slice yourself. That way people would stop thinking that I'm a total glutton.” She swallowed. “I’d go with you,” she pushed.

“Sasha—”

“I know, I know, I should just learn to butt out.” She licked the extra icing off of her fingers. “But I keep hoping that if I badger you long enough, you’ll just cave.”

There was a pause. “I know you mean well,” Clio said at last, not unkindly, “but people wouldn’t understand.”

As if to accentuate his point, he turned to face her head on.

Even in the dim light, looking at Clio Jones was unsettling. The left side of his face was completely normal – right down to his hazel eye, the faded laugh lines, and the warm hue of his skin – but the right side of his face created a glaring contrast. His skin had turned an ashen white, the pigment that had existed there long since leeched away, and the fine webbing of veins around his eyes were heavy and dark, as if someone had taken a pen and oozed black ink onto the canvas of his upper cheek. But the worst by far was his dead eye. The orb was completely black, as deep as midnight and as flat as the predatory eye of a shark. And every time Sasha saw it staring at her it made her shiver, no matter how hard she tried to remind herself that it was just Clio.

“See? You know me, and I still spook you. Imagine how people that don’t know me would react to seeing the Mutt.”

Her temper flared. “Don’t call yourself that.”

He shrugged. “Hey, don't get mad at me—I didn't coin the nickname. I don't particularly care for it, either, but that’s what the scientists called me way back when the Titan vaccine did this to me. I guess it was easier than referring to me as a human-vampire hybrid.” He placed his empty plate on top of hers. “Funny thing is, I’m probably their biggest success story. I got all the enhancements without the violent, psychotic side effects. But all people see is this.” He tapped his right temple. “The monster half.”

Sasha looked him straight in the eye. “That’s not all I see,” she said. “And besides, nobody that wears their hair like that could scare anyone.”

He scowled. “What’s wrong with the bun?”

Sasha gave him a sly smile. “Nothing.” In fact, she’d always thought that his chestnut hair, which, for as long as she’d known him, had always been knotted in a tight bun high on the back of his head, was the cutest thing about him. But he didn’t need to know that. “The bun’s fine; I just like bringing it up because you’re so sensitive about it.”

“Am not.”

Sasha’s smile widened.

“Okay, fine," he relented, rolling his human eye. "I’m a _little_ sensitive about it. Jeez, Braus, you always know how to hit a man where it hurts.” His expression turned curious. “Speaking of which," he added at a lower decibel, "have you told Connie yet?”

The seriousness of his tone confused her. “Told Connie what?”

Now it was Clio’s turn to look confused. “About...well, about your condition.”

“Condition…?” The word had no meaning for a brief moment, and then it had all the meaning in the world. Sasha gasped. “No, I…I can’t be.” She hopped off of the crates, mentally counting back to when she’d last bled. It couldn’t have been more than four…five weeks ago—six at the most. _I’m just late, is all._ “I can’t be,” she repeated. “It’s impossible.”

"Shit." Clio groaned. “Sasha, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Knew? No. And how the hell are you so sure?”

“Two heartbeats.” Color bloomed on his human cheek. “And you, uh, you smell different. I noticed it before you even walked into the room.”

“Oh.” Sasha sat back down, one hand instinctively spreading over her flat stomach. _A baby? Now? How am I going to tell Connie?_

The last question was the one that worried her the most. She and Connie couldn't even commit to each other, let alone to a baby; they were more like friends with benefits than an actual couple, and even though she loved him, she had no idea what he would say when he found out that he was going to be a father...though she imagined that there would probably be a lot of freaking out involved. Connie had never been great with surprises.

“Shit,” she breathed, and before she or Clio could say anything else, the screaming started.

 

**

The awful sounds were growing louder, coming closer, and Hannes knew that it wouldn’t be long before the madness would reach even his remote guard tower.

With shaking hands, he affixed the tiny missives to the birds’ feet, his fingers slipping and fumbling with the knots, dots of perspiration breaking out across his forehead as he fought to complete the task at hand. His fear was making him clumsy and he desperately couldn’t afford to be. It was possible he only had a few minutes left. Cursing, he renewed his efforts, finally managing to form the proper knots and secure his handwritten messages in place. All the while, the two birds – the ravens he had raised and trained since they’d hatched – watched him, their beady eyes staring at him with black impassivity. They had no idea that this would be their last journey, that they would have no home to return to; they had no inkling that they were burdened with the gravest news they’d ever carry.

 _Maria has fallen,_ his hastily scrawled messages read. _Titans attacked in force, all at once, and breached our defenses. The fortress is lost, and the citizens within her walls are being slaughtered. Send help, and bolster your own defenses._

Hannes held out his gloved forearm and Bean instantly alighted there, prompt as usual, and despite the direness of the situation, Hannes felt a weak smile twitch his lips. “Always have to be first, don’t you, Beanie?” He said, premature nostalgia coloring his words. He knew it was the last time he would ever hold the slight raven on his arm.

The bird cocked its head at him in reply, and Hannes carried him to the window, pushing open the bars with his free arm. “Off you go,” he said, and the raven instantly flew from the tower, its wings catching the breeze as it started on its long but familiar journey to Sina.

Hannes turned back and reached for Sonny, and, just like always, it took a bit more prompting and assistance to maneuver the older raven onto his arm. Hannes was used to Sonny's somewhat lazy temperament, however, and years of experience had made him adept at getting the stubborn bird to do what he wanted. Today was no exception; with less than a minute of coaxing, the bird grudgingly settled in place.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was—”

The middle of the tower door exploded inward with a heaving groan, the sound of splintering wood reverberating in the small space. Hannes froze in terror, the blood leaching from his face as a cold panic seized his belly.

_They’re here._

There was a second of stasis where Hannes could see nothing in the newly made hole, and then the void was filled with a face—humanoid and horrible and unmistakably that of a titan. For a moment the creature simply stared, unmoving, and then its lips pulled back and it _grinned_ , a horrible rictus of a smile that displayed a mouthful of sharp, bloodstained fangs.

Hannes stumbled backwards and Sonny squawked, angry at being jostled from his steady perch on Hannes’ forearm.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Hannes soothed, his voice high and thready and not as comforting as he wanted it to be. He spun towards the window as the titan began to pound at the parts of the door that were still intact, each blow creating deeper cracks and splinters.

_It won't hold, it won't hold, it won't..._

It gave just as Hannes reached the window, the entire thing bursting inward in a shower of jagged wood chips.

And then the titan was in the room with him.

Hannes didn’t bother looking back, just shoved Sonny out the window with more violence than he ever had, desperate to do this one last thing. “Go!” He shouted at the frightened raven. “Fly, damn you! Fly to Rose!”

Startled, Sonny flapped his wings and pushed off of Hannes’ forearm—just as the titan yanked the man away from the window.

Hannes smacked painfully into the floor, his chin knocking onto the surface and rattling his teeth. Blood flooded his mouth, but he had no time to process the pain because a second later, the titan dug its claws into his arms and flipped him onto his back.

And then it was on all fours above him, and Hannes was powerless to stop it as it leaned in and - grotesque smile still in place - viciously tore his throat out.

 

**

Of all the fucked up ideas Kenny had had in his life, this was by the far the worst. It was genocidal, unforgivable, sheer insanity.

It was also the only option he had left.

 _Desperate fucking times,_ he thought as he bolted the Level D storage door behind him.

Maria had gone to hell in a matter of minutes after the titans breached her defenses, Levels A and B falling before most of the citizens even knew what the fuck was happening. The once-hunters had descended like a veritable flash flood, en masse and with no warning, and now they were everywhere, tearing through the levels with a vengeance, fangs and claws bared, ripping into everything and everyone they happened to encounter, their black, unseeing eyes gleaming with nothing but rage and the need to kill.

And Kenny had known then – as he’d made a hasty retreat down to the lower levels – that the shit he’d been dreading for so long had finally hit the proverbial fan. There was no way to gain back the ground they’d lost, no way to push the titans from the walls, no way to save Maria's doomed inhabitants.

The fortress had fallen, and there was no way to reclaim it.

“Don’t worry, old girl,” Kenny said as he glanced down at the stick of dynamite in his hand, “We might not be long for the world, but hell if we won't go out with a bang.”

_“Kenny?"_

The sound of the familiar voice was followed up with a chorus of brusque knocks on the locked door. "What the hell are you doing?" Another hard knock. "Oi! This place is done for—we need to get our asses out of here _now._ ”

Kenny couldn't help but smile at the irritation in his nephew's voice.  _Always so ornery, even when we're under fucking siege._ He straightened up. “No can do, runt,” he said. “I'm fine right here. After all, a captain’s gotta stay with his ship.”

Levi jiggled the door handle. “The fuck are you talking about? Open the door. We need to go.”

Kenny stared at the imposing crates of military grade C-4 stacked in front of him. “How many people did you manage to evacuate?” He asked, gaze still riveted to the explosives.

Levi’s response was muffled. “Not enough…just a handful. The rest are..." He paused. "The titans have the run of the place, Kenny. It’s over.”

_Not yet it ain't._

He wedged the stick of dynamite between two of the crates. “Listen to me, Levi,” he said as he secured the dynamite in place, “you get that handful of people out of here. Keep ‘em safe as best you can. Be a leader to them. And get well clear of here.”

Kenny could sense Levi stiffen from the other side of the door. “What are you doing in there, Kenny?” He asked, uneasiness coloring the question.

Kenny chuckled. “Why, I’m makin’ the most of dear ol’ Maria’s resources,” he touted, the cavalier words rolling off his tongue. “I’m gonna blow these fuckers sky high.” He paused, sobering slightly. “Which means you need to get the hell away from here before I do.”

“Kenny, you can't...”

“Shut it,” he barked, silencing Levi’s protest. “You think I want to be brainy bits and human soup? I don’t. But there’s no fucking way we’re all gonna make it out of here. Use that puny little brain of yours. _Think_. If we all leave, those titans will sure as shit follow us. And when they catch us - and they  _will_ catch us - we’ll all die bloody. But if most of 'em get blown to smithereens, that handful of yours might just have a chance."  _And you, my whelp of a nephew, you might just live to see another day._ "This is a better way. You know it, and I know it.”

There was a long pause, so long that Kenny almost thought Levi had left. But then his words carried through the door, softly spoken and strangely thick. “I’ll do it, then. You go. I'll stay.”

His nephew’s offer nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Huh?"

"I'll stay," Levi repeated.

Kenny was speechless. _Fuck me_ _, the little twerp actually cares._ He gave a wry chuckle. "Guess this means you don't hate me."

"Tch, don't flatter yourself," Levi muttered, but the disdain in his voice sounded forced. "I'm only offering because I have better follow-through than you do." 

 _Sure you_ _are,_ Kenny thought, but he played along. "Well, tough luck," he spat back. "You're not stealing my thunder." _And there ain't no way I'm about to let you die for me, Levi._

While it was true that their relationship was never what anyone would have called loving (not even by a long shot), Kenny had always had a soft spot for his runt of a nephew, albeit a very well hidden one. So well hidden, in fact, that Levi himself would probably bet everything he owned that Kenny didn't give a single shit about him. Granted, he had reason to think so; it wasn't as if either of them had ever been the least bit affectionate. Hell, their idea of bonding was seeing just how much they could piss the other off before resorting to physical violence.

But moments like this…they reminded Kenny that beneath it all, they were family.

And when it came right down to it, both he and Levi had always striven to protect what little family they had left.

 _You might be a raging asshole, Levi, but I'll be damned if you don't have a bit of your mother in you too._ He sighed. “No, Levi. This is my job to do. You’re a Reaper; if those people have any hope of making it past today, they’re gonna need you. Not me.” He infused his trademark causticness into his voice. “Now quit arguing with me for once in your pathetic life and get the hell out of here before I decide to make you collateral damage.”

Levi was quiet for a suspended moment, but finally, he gave his begrudging answer. “…Aye, Kenny."

He mumbled something else, but Kenny didn’t catch the words; his attention was already focused back on the mound of explosives in front of him. "Countdown starts now," he called out. "So scram."

He waited for five whole minutes, and he’d been planning to wait for at least five more to give Levi enough time to get safely away, but the sound of titans outside his door forced his hand. He _had_ to act; if they got into the storeroom and killed him before he could set off the explosives, the whole plan would be shot.

 _Run fast,_ he silently urged Levi as he retrieved a match from his pocket. He put it under his thumbnail, held it steady and then flicked it to the side, and the match caught just as it always did, flaring to life literally beneath his fingertips.

Kenny had never been prone to overthinking things, and he didn’t now. In one swift motion, he lit the fuse of the dynamite, dropped the match, and stepped back, watching as the tiny flame made its slow, inexorable journey downward.

“Fuckin' blow already,” Kenny whispered, and a second later, the world exploded.  

 

**

The lone vampire stared in silence as the mushroom cloud crept above the tree line, standing utterly still as the blanket of dark, heavy smoke rose and expanded in the air.

She had lived in the woods all her life, and never – not once – had she seen anything like it. Even the _feel_ of it had eclipsed anything she’d ever experienced, the shock waves from the explosion traveling through the earth for miles like vast, tectonic ripples.

Mikasa hadn’t felt a sense of horror so acute since the night her people had been butchered.

But now, as she moved through the forest, staring at the devastation polluting the evening sky, all she felt was rage.

There was only one force on earth capable of causing such cataclysmic destruction, and only one that would be willing to do so.

Clutching at the drawstring bag around her neck, Mikasa sped through the trees, heading towards the humans’ base to see what they had destroyed.

But when she arrived at the edge of the forest she drew up short, her shock rekindled by the sight in front of her.

She stepped into the clearing, barely able to believe what her eyes were telling her was the truth.

Fortress Maria was no more.

Ash was falling like snow all around the blast site, blanketing the scorched ground in grey and forming a dusty carpet. A few pieces landed on Mikasa’s face and in her hair, but she didn’t even bother to brush them away.

The walls that had stood proud and seemingly impenetrable for the past five years were all but gone, blown outward and scattered as far as the eye could see, and the small sections that remained intact were charred almost past recognition. A huge crater now sat in the center of it all, a hole in the earth that was still smoking and burning.

And, present in the air alongside the smell of burning metal and pitch, was the distinct, metallic tang of blood. _Lots_ of blood—human and otherwise, which meant that…

Mikasa drew in a sharp breath of realization.  _They_ _were inside when it happened_.

She frowned, curiosity overshadowing her anger. It didn’t make sense; why would the humans blow up their own fortress? And why would they kill themselves? Humans were cruel, deranged – evil, even – but they loved themselves too much to ever fathom doing something as drastic as mass suicide.

_So what happened here?_

Seeking answers, Mikasa began to circle the area, searching for any sign of life. But both a cursory and more detailed sweep made it clear that nothing in the immediate vicinity had survived. Everything was blackened and dead.

The smell of blood was beginning to make her head spin, so Mikasa decided to put an end to her search. Her hunger was starting to become unbearable, and none of the spilled human blood soaking into the earth was drinkable; it was mixed with chemicals and titan blood and too many other things that could make her sick to ever risk imbibing it. Still, if she lingered any longer, she feared her need to feed would outweigh her sense of reason. The rich scent of so much blood would have been a great temptation even on a full stomach, and Mikasa’s was nearly empty; it had been too long since her last hunt.

She turned back to the forest, intending to head back the way she’d come, when she saw them: human footprints, their faint imprints leading away into a different section of the woods.

_So you didn’t all die in the explosion._

Mikasa paused, deliberating for a moment, and then she picked up the trail the unwitting humans had left for her.

There might be survivors now, but after she caught up to them, Mikasa would make sure there were none. After all, she’d made a promise to her people that one day she would avenge them, that one day she would make the humans pay for what they’d done.

 _Rest easily, my family_ , Mikasa thought as she followed the trail away from the remains of Fortress Maria. _Our day of vengeance has finally come._

 

_**_

“…This can’t be real, this can’t be happening, this—”

Levi ground his teeth together in irritation. _Enough is enough._ “Kirschtein. Outside. _Now._ ” He turned to Ymir. “You too. And find a way to shut him up." The last thing they needed was for Kirschtein's repetitive monologue of a panic attack to rile everyone else up.

Ymir nodded once and followed Jean outside, leaving Levi alone with the nearly thirty civilians packed into the small cave.

Levi had used the cave as a shelter before on scouting missions, but while it had been more than comfortable to house one or two or even five people, it barely managed to contain the small number of survivors from Maria. They were crammed in like sardines, sitting more or less on top of one another, and most of their fear-addled faces were staring up at him, as if they were waiting for him to fix what had happened, to somehow make it right.

He didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were most likely all going to die.

Frowning, he turned and ducked out of the cave, joining his two subordinates.

Clio Jones was outside as well, standing off to the side, his dead eye fixed on Levi. Unlike the others, the Mutt had been outside ever since they'd gotten there, which was probably for the best; he made everyone else uneasy, and tensions were high enough as it was.

Levi watched him for a protracted moment, weighing his options. Despite his appearance, Jones was a trained hunter, and he didn't appear to be hostile _._ And to his credit, he'd helped Braus and a few others get out of Maria. Levi had no real opinion of the Mutt - he'd had no interaction with him before or after his alteration - but he knew what people said about him, knew that the reputation he'd acquired had driven him into hiding. But gossip was often a piss poor excuse for truth, and right now Levi needed all the fighters he had, regardless of how little he trusted them.

So he resolutely ignored the looks that Jean and Ymir threw in his direction and motioned for Clio Jones to join them.

Once they were gathered in a loose circle, Ymir was the first to break the silence. “Please tell me you have a plan, Cap.” She kept her tone under tight control, but she could do nothing to mask how pale she was.

“I do.” Levi grimaced, knowing his plan wasn’t much of one. “We're going to head west. To Rose.”

Both Jean and Ymir gaped at him, stunned speechless.

“It's the only viable option we have,” he continued. “Sina is even further away, so that's out of the question. And we can’t stay here—thirty people with no supplies can’t rebuild Maria."

"Right." Jean spit at the ground in disgust. "You know, if Kenny hadn't fucking _blown_ Maria _up_ , we wouldn't be in this mess!" He huffed.

"No, we wouldn't," Levi replied, voice dangerously low. "We'd be dead."

Jean stared at him, his expression falling as he realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry, Cap, I didn't mean—"

"What—to shit on the man who saved your life?"

Jean swallowed, looking chagrined.

"Maria was overrun, and Kenny did what he did to buy us time," Levi said, addressing the group. "So we're not just going to sit around on our asses and wait to get picked off by titans." 

Ymir gave him a discouraged frown. “But Cap, Rose is a thousand miles from here. We'll never make it there.”

"We will." _We have to, or else we're dead._

“Do we even have weapons?" Jean asked, not quite looking Levi in the eye as he spoke. "All I have on me are a few throwing knives.”

“At least you have those,” Ymir said. “All my stuff was in Maria.”

“Split the knives between you,” Levi interrupted. He looked up at Clio. “What about you, Jones? Do you have any weapons with you?”

Clio turned, exposing the long, slender sheath strapped to his hip. “I have this,” he said.

Despite the situation, Levi felt a flicker of surprise. “You know how to use a katana?”

Clio nodded. “It was my weapon of choice back in my Legion days. This thing can slice a vamp clean in two.” He paused. “It also works just as well on titans.”

Jean glared at the once-hunter. “Does it work just as well on humans, too?”

Clio’s human eye flashed. “I don’t kill my own kind.”

Ymir crossed her arms. “But you’re not really _our_ kind, are you, Mutt?” She said, siding with Jean.

Levi stepped between them. “Back off. Now’s not the time.” He jabbed a finger towards the cave. “Out of all the people in there, we’re the only ones who are in any way trained to deal with shit like this. So like it or not, the four of us need to function as a unit. That means that Jones is one of us.” He added a hint of menace to his voice. “Is that understood?”

Jean mumbled a weak yes and Ymir nodded curtly, never taking her eyes off of Clio.

Their responses were not at all reassuring, but Levi let it slide for the moment. There were more immediate concerns that had to be dealt with.

“All right. Here’s what’s going to happen. Ymir and Jean, the two of you will stay here and guard the cave. Take shifts, and one of you – whichever one of you is less likely to put their foot in their mouth – go and talk to Petra. I know she’s made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with the Legion, but she’s the only other trained hunter we have and we need her.”

“And what are we going to do?” Clio asked.

“You and I will scout the woods between here and the closest Legion outpost, make sure there aren’t any titans in the area. If the way is clear, we can move the civilians there. It’s not well fortified but it’s better and bigger than a cave, and we used to store food and weapons there. Hopefully some of it is still usable.”

“And if it’s not?” Jean asked.

“There are dozens more outposts between here and Rose,” Levi answered, knowing full well that after five years most of the supplies in all of the outposts would be shot to shit; it would be dumb luck if they were able to use anything at all. Still, he wasn't about to say that. As Kenny had once said, _never show your cards, especially if they're bad. Keep 'em to yourself and bluff like hell._

So that's what he did. “If we don't find what we need at the closest outpost, we'll find it at another one. We’ll keep moving.” He straightened. “Now get to your posts and keep watch until we get back.”

He turned to Clio. “Ready?”

The hybrid lightly fingered the hilt of his blade. “Yup.”

 

**

They had almost made it to the outpost when Levi sensed Clio stiffen.

He froze, instantly on alert, and then he heard it too. “Titans?” He asked.

Clio nodded, fingers twitching. “And…” He sniffed the air, brows wrinkling for a moment before slackening in surprise. “And a vampire.”

_A vampire?_

Levi hadn’t seen a vampire since the walls went up, but he felt his Reaper instincts take over as if it had been only yesterday. Leaving the boomerang and the machete tucked into his belt, he reached down and retrieved the short dagger from his boot, then moved forward on silent feet, Clio close by his side.

There were five figures ahead of them, their silhouettes visible through the trees, but when he and Clio got close enough to see what was going on, Levi held out his arm, signaling for them to stop, the unfolding scene arousing his curiosity.

The vampire was standing alone and unarmed as the four titans circled her, looking calm and unfazed and confident as she stared them down.

It had been years since Levi had seen a vampire, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen one that looked quite like the one in front of him now. Her skin was as pale and smooth as alabaster, though she sported the same inky veins in her face as Clio did on his right cheek, and her features were demure – pretty, even – aside from the wicked pair of fangs protruding from her lips and the flat black of her eyes. And she seemed to be in complete control of her faculties—not rabid or feral like the vampires he remembered.

Yet what truly caught his attention was the small pouch she wore around her neck, because, thanks to Kenny, he had a sneaking suspicion of what was inside.

An idea began to take shape in his mind.

Levi saw Clio move to unsheathe his katana, and he quickly shook his head. “No. Don’t intervene. Let’s see what happens.”

It didn’t take long.

Two of the titans lunged for the vampire, fangs and claws bared—and seconds later they went down in pieces, cut into ribbons of flesh and blood with swift, artful precision. The other two howled in outrage and charged, and again the vampire moved like lightning, sidestepping their attacks and spinning nimbly away, like a dancer in some macabre yet graceful ballet. Another few moments and the other two titans joined their brothers on the ground, leaving the vampire standing victorious and alone.

And Levi knew then that the gamble would be worth the risk, because if Kenny’s theories had been right…

He turned to Clio. “I’m going to subdue her,” he said under his breath. “And I need you to get the pouch around her neck. Don’t kill her.”

Clio frowned down at him, clearly confused. “Okay, but why?”

Levi looked back at the vampire, at the blood dripping from her fingertips and fangs, at the proud set of her shoulders. “Because," he said, "she’s going to help us get to Rose, whether she wants to or not.”

“How?”

“Leverage,” Levi said, and, blade in hand, he stepped out of the shadows and locked eyes with the thing he hated most in the world.

 

 


	3. Natural Born Enemies

_Nothing fans the flames of hatred as intensely as ignorance._

\- Fragment taken from The Wanderer's recovered travel log, Vol. 1

**

 

“All right, Mule," Ymir said as she walked up behind him. "I’m up. Go take a breather.”

Jean exhaled in relief, almost positive that he'd never been more grateful to hear her annoying voice in his entire life than he was right now.

His four hours on watch duty had felt like forty. He’d had nothing to do except relive the trauma of Maria exploding into the sky and worry that there were still titans in the area, which there probably were because hey—if _he_ had survived, it was possible that some of those freakish-looking monsters had, too. Probable, even. And ever since Captain Levi and the Mutt had left, it had been up to him to make sure that whatever was still lurking in the woods didn’t pay the Maria survivors a surprise visit. His back and shoulders were achingly stiff from the stress, and his eyes were strained from restlessly searching the trees for the better part of the evening, trying to discern whether there were more shadows than there should be or if his eyes were just playing tricks on him.

He didn’t just want a break; he _needed_ one.

Still, though, Ymir had been in charge of dealing with thirty panicking people the entire time he’d been on watch duty, and that had been after she’d talked him down from his own panic attack. He owed her at least some modicum of thanks.

“You sure?” He asked. “I could probably go another hour.”

Ymir rolled her eyes at his offer. “How chivalrous of you. Now get inside.”

He gave her a weak, fleeting smile. “Thanks, Ymir. And thanks for earlier, too.”

She looked over at him, and though it was hard to tell, it seemed like her brown eyes were steeped with less sarcasm than usual. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We were all freaking out; you were just the only one doing it out loud.”

Her honesty surprised him. “You were freaking out too?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Of course.” She began ticking things off with her fingers. “The people we’ve lived with for the past five years are all dead, our home’s been decimated, the nearest safest place is a thousand miles away, and we have no food and no weapons. We’re probably all going to die out here of starvation. Unless titans get us first.”

Jean felt like someone had punctured a balloon inside of his stomach, the scant amount of hope he’d felt earlier deflating completely. “Well shit,” he mumbled. “Remind me not to ever come to you for a pep talk.”

Ymir chuckled. “I don’t like to sugarcoat things.”

“Apparently not.” He exhaled and turned away with a shake of his head. “I’m going in. I’ll relieve you in a bit.”

Inside the cave, he was surprised to see that most people were sleeping, huddled against the walls and each other, seemingly unbothered by the way they were basically sprawled on top of one another.

For a minute, Jean considered joining them, but he quickly decided against it. He was tired, sure, but the thought of sleeping after everything that had happened seemed impossible. He doubted he would ever be able to close his eyes again, let alone feel safe enough to let unconsciousness tug him under.

So instead, he walked carefully over the mess of tangled limbs stretched out haphazardly on the ground and hunkered down next to one of the only people still awake.

“Hey, Petra,” he whispered as he sat down in the vacant space beside her. He nodded to the little girl curled up and sleeping in her lap. “How’s she doing?”

She gave him a small smile. “Cody will be all right,” she said, idly brushing her fingers through her daughter’s auburn hair. “She’s a tough kid.”

Jean thought of her penchant for sneaking out of Maria. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She definitely is.”

Petra’s hand stilled. “Yes, but that’s not a good enough reason to give a little girl a knife,” she chided, fixing him with a look that was mild yet still managed to make Jean feel as if he were being reprimanded.

“Sorry,” he murmured lamely. He’d forgotten about the throwing knife. The events of the afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago. “She just, uh, really wanted to try.”

“Cody wants to try everything,” Petra answered, “but she’s _six_ , Jean Kirschtein. Remember that.”

He almost apologized again, but some pinch of instinct stopped him. “Yeah,” he said instead, “Cody's six, but she’s also your daughter. And Auruo’s daughter. Bravery and boldness is pretty much in her blood.”

Petra’s delicate brow furrowed as she looked down at her sleeping child. “I know that,” she admitted. “That’s what worries me. I don’t want her to be like us.”

Jean didn’t get it.  “But you saved so many people when you were in the Legion."

“I didn’t save anyone,” she answered sadly. “I just killed a lot of vampires.”

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

Petra shook her head. “No, Jean, it isn’t.” She sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand. You and Ymir weren’t part of the Legion before the fortresses; you don’t know what it was like.” She paused. “I have good memories of my comrades and my time in the field, but twice as many bad memories." Her tone gained an acerbic edge. "Memories I intend to keep well hidden from my daughter. Trust me, not all of us are the heroes we're made out to be.”

Jean frowned. “I think you're judging yourself too harshly," he admitted. "Ymir and I might not have been in the Legion at the time, but we know the stories. Entire villages would have been raided and slaughtered if it hadn’t been for you hunters, whole families murdered in their sleep. You guys protected us, made us feel safe. That’s why Ymir and I kept asking Cap to train us,” he added. “We wanted to be a part of that. We wanted to make a difference. So I don’t get why you only see the bad.”

Petra’s expression hardened. “Because ‘the bad’ is what tore my family apart. If it wasn’t for the Legion, Cody would still have a father.”

Jean mentally kicked himself. That was twice now that he’d spoken without thinking and inadvertently hurt someone else.

 _God, I’m such a fuck up._ “I’m sorry, Petra,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to remind you of what happened.”

“It’s okay.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it out, resting her head back against the wall of the cave. “The answer is no, by the way.”

Jean’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The answer to what?”

“To the question you haven’t asked yet.” She paused. “I know Levi wants me to fight again, to help you, but I can’t.” Her amber eyes were fervent as they found his. “I have Cody now, and she is my first priority. So I’m sorry, but you can tell Levi that my daughter comes first.”

Jean knew he couldn’t really argue with that, but he also knew that as good as he and Ymir were, Petra was the more experienced soldier. She had actually been in combat and faced vampires, whereas he and Ymir had only ever sparred each other, and, every once in a painful while, the Captain. And Captain Levi had never been trying to _actually_ hurt them. Not permanently, anyway.

“But if you fight again, you will be putting Cody first,” he reasoned. “You’ll be protecting her.” He decided to come clean. “Captain Levi said that we’re going to head west to Rose,” he revealed, lowering his voice to a whisper. He could tell the news came as a shock, and he hurried on when he saw her startled expression. “He knows it’s a long shot - and it is - but we don’t have any other options so we have to try. Without your help, though, there are only three of us who are trained to deal with whatever we come up against.” He excluded the Mutt from his count, not seeing the sense in including someone he couldn't trust. “Just three of us," he said again. "And three’s not enough to see thirty people safely through a thousand miles of wilderness.”

Petra frowned. “Four is no better,” she said quietly.

“It’s better than three,” he countered.

She didn't reply to that, just cocked her head to the side and weighed his words, her brows knitting together in thought.

“Jean!”

He and Petra both turned as Ymir entered the cave. She hastened over to them, mindless of the people she stepped in on her hurry.

Jean was already on his feet by the time she reached him, and the second he saw her expression, his stomach coiled into knots. “Is it...?”

She nodded. “Titans,” she affirmed, not even trying to be quiet. People around them began to stir, and Jean felt Petra stiffen on the ground beside him.

“I saw at least five of them,” Ymir went on. “They’re closing in on the cave.”

Jean swallowed against a mouthful of nervous bile. “And Cap?” He asked.

Ymir shook her head, confirming his fears. “Not back.” She looked down at Petra, then back up at him, her eyes filled with dismay. “We’re on our own.”

Jean's hands started to shake. “What the fuck do we do?” He choked. “I—”

“We fight,” Petra said from below them. Gently, she laid her daughter on the cave floor, careful not to wake her, and stood up, her amber eyes burning with determination. “We fight,” she repeated, “and we keep our cool. We protect my daughter and everyone else.” She looked between him and Ymir. “Okay?”

They both nodded.

“Good." She gave Jean a stern look. "This doesn't change my answer,” she added under her breath. "I'm only doing this because Levi isn't here." She started for the mouth of the cave.

“Wait!” Jean held her back. “Don’t you need a weapon?”

Petra shook her head and pointed to her right boot. “I always keep my dagger with me,” she said unhappily. “It’s a habit I haven’t been able to break.” She gestured to her belt. "And I also have the knife you gave to my daughter. It's sharp enough to be lethal."

He was struggling to find a suitable reply to that when a sudden movement from the entrance drew their attention, sending his fear catapulting up to a whole new level of dread.

The first titan was inside the cave.

 

**

Levi couldn't remember the last time the forest had seemed so still. Everything had faded away. There was no sound, no movement—nothing at all. The animals had fled, the wind had stopped, and even the leaves were frozen in place as if they were holding their collective, intangible breath. Levi couldn't even hear so much as white noise ringing in his ears.

And yet he knew that Clio had to be somewhere close by, knew that the forest wasn't as deserted as it felt. And yet somehow, none of that mattered. The only thing that Levi was aware of in those few, lingering seconds was the female vampire standing a few yards away—his sworn enemy, and the only creature he hated more than the titans.

They were staring at each other, black and steel gazes locked together in an unspoken challenge, both full of latent malice just waiting to be unleashed. 

Slowly, Levi took a few soft, calculated steps towards her, never breaking eye contact. He'd always enjoyed this moment—the calm before the storm when his opponent sized him up and decided whether to fight or flee. It was a moment that was ostensibly in their control, but it revealed facets of their character to Levi that were invaluable in a fight. Timidity, arrogance, madness… Levi had seen it all, and he knew how to tailor his approach for each and every variance. It was one of the reasons that he’d been so successful as a Reaper, so feared.

But as he stared back at this vampire, he wondered if his skills were still as sharp as they once had been, if he still had the same edge that had once set him apart from even the other Reapers.

Because he couldn’t read her at all.

The only thing he could glean from her demeanor was a sense of utter, dead calm, one that gave nothing of her persona away save a single, obvious fact.

_This one is dangerous._

Levi took another step forward, not letting the thought faze him. She might be dangerous, but she wasn't the only one. And just to show her that, he made sure that she had a good view of the dagger in his hand as he twirled it aimlessly between his fingers. “Vampire,” he said, and though he didn’t spit the word at her, he said it with enough disgust that the effect was the same.

“Human,” she answered with equal rancor.

He shook his head. “Hunter,” he corrected, pronouncing the word with exaggerated slowness.

 _That_ gained a reaction, subtle though it was, a tiny flicker of hatred that flashed beneath her stoic mask. But still she made no move to engage him.

Levi frowned. At this point in a normal fight, he would go on the offensive and attack, but he couldn’t do that—not with this vampire, not if he wanted a chance to test Kenny’s insane theories. He needed to bait her.

So he changed tactics entirely and dropped his dagger into the dirt.

Her gaze momentarily shifted to his discarded blade before her black eyes found his again. “If that is your way of surrendering, I suggest you pick up your weapon.” Her voice was cold. “Armed or not, I will show you no mercy.”

"Tch." He snorted at the irony of that statement. “As if a vampire would have any notion of what _mercy_ is.”

She raised a delicate brow, and Levi could sense mockery in the gesture even from a distance. “And a human would?” She scoffed. “Take a look around you, hunter. Your race is more bloodthirsty than mine; the world is in ruins because of you. All you do is kill and destroy.”

“Only when it comes to blood-sucking parasites.”

Her eyes flashed. “And you lie, too. I saw what happened to your fortress. Vampires did not do _that_.”

Levi paused, taken aback by her words, and it was only then that he realized that they had started to circle each other, both of them stalking indirectly closer and closer to the other, the imminence of their fight drawing them together with magnetic force.

He took advantage of it and moved in closer still, wondering if she’d noticed what they were doing. “Attack me, then,” he prodded. “Rid the world of one more hunter. Unless,” he taunted, “you’re worried you can’t beat me.”

“I’m not.” She snarled, exposing the tips of her fangs. “I always win.”

And just like that, their stalemate ended.

She attacked, and Levi was on his back on the ground before he knew what had hit him, the air expelled from his lungs by the brutal force of her blow.

Fuck. He’d forgotten how quickly vampires could move.

Her speed rattled him, but he regrouped immediately, springing to his feet—which gave him just enough time to dodge the vicious claw strike that came sailing towards his face. He leapt out of range, breathing hard and more than a little shocked at just _how_ fast she was.

 _Concentrate,_ he chastised himself. _You’re a Reaper, not some fucking novice._

She clawed at him again and again, relentless, but Levi began to adapt to the way she moved, dodging and parrying blows until his purely defensive strategy began to morph into reactive counterattacking.

But the vampire adapted as well. She started feinting.

And Levi fell for it, stepping neatly away from her intimated trajectory and falling right into her trap. Her fingers sliced deeply into his shoulder, opening slashes in his skin that throbbed red.

Levi blinked in surprise when he saw how badly she had cut him, and for a mere nanosecond, he wondered where the fuck a vampire had learned to fight like a Reaper.

And then he pushed the thought away and went on the offensive, throwing his full weight at her as she moved to strike him again.

He saw her eyes widen as he stepped into her personal space before she could correctly prepare her strike, and he took full advantage of the situation, simultaneously seizing her wrists and kicking at her shins to throw her off balance.

She stumbled into him, the motion bringing her face so close to his that Levi could see his own reflection in the deep black of her eyes.

He could also see the grain of the leather pouch around her neck, could see how worn the twine was that kept it suspended from her neck. One good snip and...

The vampire struggled in his grasp, muscles straining and fangs glistening, and Levi cursed, gritting his teeth at the monumental effort it took not to lose his hold on her.

And finally, when he was about to say fuck it and just go in for the kill because he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold her off without using lethal force, Levi saw Clio moving in his periphery.

_About fucking time._

The Mutt was approaching from the left with a kind of liquid grace, his motions fluid and silent as he crept up behind the vampire, his katana drawn and his intent clear.

_He's going to cut the cord._

But he couldn't—not at this angle, so Levi did the first thing that came to mind in his split-second of deliberation.

He relaxed his body completely.

The vampire gasped in surprise as her own momentum sent them reeling to the ground, their equal-matched, bodily tug-of-war ending instantly as Levi let her win. She fell on top of him with a huff, her arms bracing her fall against his chest. She glowered down at him, fangs bared, the small pouch hanging between them.

 _Gotcha._ "Now!" Levi shouted.

It was an unnecessary command.

The word had barely left his lips when Clio's blade sliced through the space between him and the vampire and artfully cut the cord from around her neck.

The pouch landed on Levi's chest with a soft thud, and the vampire's eyes dropped to it, instant panic flooding her black orbs.

Levi grabbed it before she had a chance to. "You lose," he said darkly, and then he leaned up and head butted her, hard, sending her reeling away as he twisted to the side and regained his feet.

He looked down at the small pouch in his hand, trying to contain his disgust, failing. He grimaced. The leather was soft in his palm, and beneath it, he could feel the small outline of the object inside.

Funny, how something so seemingly inconsequential could be so very important.

Or so he hoped. He would learn in the next five seconds whether Kenny had been right, or just been batshit crazy.

“Uh, Captain…” Clio warned, coming to stand beside him.

Levi unsheathed his spare dagger just as the vampire started for them. “Don’t,” he said, positioning the blade against the yielding leather, “or I’ll pierce it through.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him in stony silence. Her lips twitched. “Why haven’t you already?” She asked. “You obviously know what it is.”

Levi shrugged. “Because I don’t want to kill you. I want to talk.”

She looked back at him as if he were insane. “Talk?” She repeated. “Since when do hunters and vampires talk?”

“Since now.” Levi gestured to the pouch. “Humor me. And try to remember that I do literally have your heart in my hand.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Fine. Talk.”

It rankled him to even say the words, but he forced them past his teeth anyway. “We need your help.”

“I refuse.”

Levi glowered at her. “You don’t even know what I’m asking for yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice was heavy with contempt. “I refuse to help humans. I want you all dead. Only then will there be justice.”

“Justice?” He said blankly.

“Your people butchered mine. I owe it to their memories to repay you in kind.”

Levi frowned. A bloodthirsty vampire he could understand, but a self-righteous one…? It made no sense.

“Even children?”

Clio’s soft interjection made both of them pause, and then it was the vampire’s turn to frown. “Excuse me?”

Clio glanced off into the forest. “I’m part vampire,” he said, “and sometimes I feel the urge to feed, the urge to kill, as I’m sure you must.” He turned to face her, and there was judgment in his human eye. “But I’ve never wanted to kill a child.”

“Neither have I,” the vampire said. “I’ve never taken an innocent life.”

“Then hear me out,” Levi said, giving Clio a brief nod of gratitude. “We were attacked by titans. Our fortress is gone, and I need to somehow get the thirty survivors – children among them – to the next stronghold. I need someone who knows the terrain, and I need someone who can fight.” He thought of Clio’s words and added: “Or else thirty innocent people will die.”

“There is no such thing as an innocent human.”

"Bullshit," he spat. "The closest thing to a weapon most of those thirty people have ever even touched is a butter knife; they don't have any blood on their hands."

The vampire pressed her lips together firmly and said nothing, and Levi got the distinct impression that her stubborn glare was conveying the message _go fuck yourself with something sharp._

He felt his sense of frustration building. Their little peace talk was going nowhere. She hated them too much—almost as much as they hated her.

So instead of wasting any more time trying to reason with her, Levi pulled a move that could have come straight out of Kenny’s playbook and squeezed the pouch in his hand so hard his knuckles whitened around it.

The vampire instantly dropped to her knees, gasping in pain.

But, Levi noticed, she didn’t beg for mercy. She just glared up at him with silent rage, resigned yet composed even in the face of her own death.

He felt a reluctant twinge of admiration for her.  _She's tough, almost as tough as..._

The memory rekindled his anger. He squeezed harder. “I’ve always found that pain is an excellent teacher, so how about this for incentive: you agree to help us and I’ll stop _this_ —” he punctuated the threat with a savage dig of his nails “—or you refuse, and I give you the bleeds and watch you die a slow, agonizing death. Your choice.”

"My  _choice?"_ Her voice was nearly hoarse. "You offer me slavery or death and call it a _choice?"_

"Yes." He tightened his fist. "Choose, vampire."

She rocked forward, hands clawing at the dirt, her curtain of dark hair obscuring the pain Levi knew must be carved into her features, and for a while, there was nothing except the ceaseless tremors shaking her shoulders. But finally she stilled and looked up, and her black eyes were as cold as the depths of the darkest ocean. “I’ll do it,” she answered in a hiss, “on one condition.”

Levi met her icy stare with one of his own. “Name it.”

“If I uphold my end of this…this _bargain_ , and we make it to your stronghold, you and I fight to the death.” She glanced at Clio. “No outside help.” Her death glare returned to him. "And you give me back what's mine _before_ we fight."

Levi released the pressure on her heart. “Done. When we get to Rose, I'll give you back your vile heart.” _And then I'll run it through and watch you die._ He sheathed his dagger. "You'll get your fight, vampire," he promised. _But it's a fight you won't win._

He stuffed the tiny pouch in his pocket as she picked herself up off of the ground, making a mental note to find a more secure place to keep it. For now, though, his pocket would have to do.

He turned to Clio. “Let’s go,” he said. He turned back to the vampire. "You walk in front."

She glowered at him but did as he said, and Levi could feel the hatred emanating from her with every unwilling step she took.

"So...what's your plan for explaining her to the others?" Clio asked after a long period of silence.

Levi was about to answer when he noticed that the other man was staring at his bleeding shoulder. He gave the once-hunter a dark look. "Do you have a problem, Jones?" He asked pointedly.

Clio's human eye narrowed. "I'm not _hungry_ , if that's what you're getting at. It's just...that wound's pretty deep."

Levi scowled. "It's fine," he muttered, not believing for a second that Clio Jones was keeping an eye on him out of concern. He might be a good hunter, and maybe even a good man underneath it all, but he was also a wildcard, and Levi couldn't trust him. He couldn't trust anyone. He was surrounded by enemies and potential enemies.

Levi could practically hear Kenny’s booming laugh from beyond the grave.

_This is quite the dream team you’ve assembled here, Levi. Quite the fucking dream team. You honestly think this bunch is gonna make it to Rose?_

In truth, he didn’t. He just wasn’t sure if titans would pick them off or if they’d end up killing each other.

Fucking dream team indeed.

 

**

Pandemonium erupted in the small cave, and the sound of screaming startled Sasha out of her nightmare and thrust her straight into the middle of another one.

 _No,_ she pleaded. _No, no, no._

It was happening again.

Titans were attacking.

She bolted to her feet, hauling Connie up with her as she took in the unfolding scene in wide-eyed terror.

People were screaming and running around the cave in a blind panic, desperate to get as far away from the predators as possible as the three hunters struggled to hold the titans back.

Which they wouldn't succeed in doing, Sasha realized. There was no way that three hunters would be able to stave off a titan attack. Not on their own, at least.

_I have to do something, but what?_

There was no way she could rally everyone else—panic had rendered them useless. She had no weapon, no plan, and she was trapped in a cave with no means of escape. If the hunters lost, everyone else would be cornered, and Sasha knew what would happen then.

 _Easy pickings,_ her father had said once, years ago, after a wolf had torn through a burrow of rabbits in their backyard. _The poor little buggers never stood a chance against those teeth and claws, 'specially not since they were all holed up together. Damn wolf didn't even have to work for the kill._

The sight of all those small, shredded bodies had made Sasha cry. She'd felt so sorry for the little creatures, so heartbroken.

But she never thought she would experience firsthand what the rabbits must have felt. Until now.

 _Do something,_ she urged herself again. _Don't be like the rabbits._

Swallowing her terror, Sasha crouched down and picked up a few small rocks that were littered on the cave floor, trying to pick out a few that seemed heftier than the others, hoping that one or two that might be able to crack a titan's skull.

“What are you doing?” Connie shouted down at her, his voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony of screams reverberating in the cave.

“Helping,” she said as she settled for two rocks that seemed like they would serve her purpose. Both fit comfortably in the cradle of her palm, but they were heavier than they looked. _They'_ _ll have to do._ Before her courage could desert her, she stood up, and, taking aim, chucked the first rock towards a titan that had just entered the cave. It missed its mark and crashed into the wall by its head.

Connie grabbed her arm before she could throw the other rock. “What are you thinking?!” He yelled. “Are you _trying_ to get their attention?”

“I’m trying to help!” She wrested her arm from his grip and hurled the second rock, this time with much more force.

Connie jumped in front of her, waving his arms. “Stop!”

Sasha balled her hands into fists, angry. “No! Don’t you get it?” She knelt down again, searching for more rocks. “We _have_ to help those hunters! They’re the only ones standing between the titans and us. So just shut up and help me!” She snapped at him, thrusting a rock into his hands.

Connie looked down at it like he was going to be sick. “This is insane,” he muttered, but he didn’t offer any further objections.

"Do you trust me?"

He exhaled. "Yeah."

"Okay." Sasha turned back to the mouth of the cave. “Then here we go. On three,” she said, taking aim. “One, two…”

"Three!" Connie yelled, hurling his rock forward with momentous force. It sailed through the air like a large bullet...

...and hit one of the titans closing in on Ymir squarely in the head. The creature reeled back, howling, and then its black eyes found them.

And Sasha realized the folly of her plan, right as the creature bared its teeth and changed course, heading straight for them.

Connie glared at her. “Now what?!”

Sasha shook her head, frozen in place, her throat starting to close up. _I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..._

Connie cursed and pried the rock she had yet to throw from her numb fingers. He hurled it towards the titan, but this time the once-hunter saw it coming and dodged out of the way, never slowing.

 _We’re going to die,_ Sasha realized. Ymir, Jean, and Petra were all facing titans of their own, and there was no one else in the cave that could help them.

“I’m sorry, Connie,” she whimpered. She was sorry she'd mistakenly thought they could help, sorry that she would never get the chance to tell him that she loved him, sorry that they would never get to freak out about being parents together. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable end.

Warm blood spattered her face.

Her eyes snapped open reflexively in surprise, just in time to see the titan fall dead at her feet.

She stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, until she realized that Connie had moved to stand in front of her, his shorter frame defensively blocking hers.

Sasha looked past him in confusion, searching for the person who had saved them.

And then she froze in fear all over again.

There, standing less than five feet from them, was a vampire.

It stared at them for a moment, silent and still, and then it turned and raced back towards the mouth of the cave, back towards where the hunters were fighting.

Captain Levi and Clio were there, too, and Sasha knew that seeing them should have been a relief, but she was too overcome to feel anything but shock, even as the tide of the battle began to turn and the hunters took out the remaining titans.

“What just happened?” Connie finally said. He was still standing protectively in front of her.

 _Hell if I know._ Sasha shook her head. “I think…I think a vampire just saved our lives.”

 

**

Ever since he was a little boy, Clio had been very skilled at reading people, at looking past their outward veneers to discern their underlying motivations and feelings. Most people saw what others projected; Clio perceived what others _didn’t_ project.

Perspicacious _,_ his mother had called him. Psychic _,_ others had said. Plain old weird, his friends had teased.

But he didn’t have to be any of those things to ascertain the feelings of the people in the cave. The titans were dead and the fight was over, but the tension in the air was as thick as fog and it stank of mutiny.

And the mutiny was directed at Captain Levi, who was talking quietly in the corner to Ymir, Jean, and another hunter who had a little girl glued to her hip. His back was to the crowd.

Levi hadn’t invited Clio to join them, which was fine – exclusion was familiar territory, after all – but nonetheless, Clio decided that he should at least interrupt briefly enough to make the Captain aware of the tension threatening to boil over.

He made his way over to the group, ignoring the distrustful looks the three hunters gave him as he approached and focusing on Levi.

But before he could say anything, the Captain beat him to it. “Jones,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. There was no distrust in his gaze, just a studied look of unaffected flatness that Clio didn’t bother reading into. “I need you to bring the vampire in here.”

Clio hesitated, taken aback by the request. “Uh, under the circumstances, I’m not sure if that’s the greatest idea. These people—”

“Have dealt with a lot of shit today,” Levi interrupted, “and they’re about to deal with a little more. Go get her.”

Clio shrugged and headed outside, doing as he was bidden. If the Captain wanted to further freak out an already frazzled, traumatized group of people, well, so be it. Clio would just prepare himself to work damage control if things got out of hand.

Beyond the mouth of the cave, the nighttime air was cool and fresh, and Clio took a cleansing breath before setting to his task, stealing a moment of solitary peace. He knew it was probably the last one he'd experience in a good long while. _Okay,_ he told himself as he exhaled. _Back to business._

The vampire was facing away from him, her face turned up to the half moon that was now hanging low in the sky. She gave no indication that she was aware of his presence, but Clio attributed that more to her ignoring him purposely than to her being unaware that he was there. Even though he moved nearly as silently as she did, Clio knew that a full-blooded vampire would have keener senses that he ever would.

He paused a few steps away from her. “Hey,” he called awkwardly, “Vampire.”

Finally, she turned. “Mikasa.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Mikasa.”

"Oh." He felt a sudden pang of guilt course through him. They'd stolen her heart, but hadn't even bothered to find out her name? Vampire or not, she was still a living creature; the least he could do was call her by her name since she'd chosen to tell him what it was. “Okay," he said. "Mikasa, then. Captain Levi wants to see you.”

Her entire body stiffened at the order, and for a second, Clio thought she would flat out refuse, that her hatred would overcome her sense of reason and that she'd lash out. But she didn't; she silently gathered herself and began to walk towards him. She stopped before passing him by, though, her cold eyes assessing him with clinical bite.

Despite the frost of her gaze, she looked different than she had earlier—less like a bloodthirsty killer and more like…well, like a girl. She’d cleaned the blood from her hands and arms and retracted her fangs, and the prominent veins around her eyes had faded to a light grey. Even her eyes weren’t as severe as they had been, their inky blackness receded into a pupil-like shape.

She looked, in that moment, more human than Clio ever would, an irony that was not lost on him.

“What are you?” She asked quietly, and though her face remained devoid of even a hint of emotion, Clio could hear true curiosity coloring her voice.

He thought of what he could say, of how he could begin to explain that _what_ and _who_ he was were two different things and yet not, that he was a one-of-a-kind variance of a botched experiment who truly believed that, despite whatever a genetic investigation might reveal and despite the dark urges he sometimes felt, he was still the same man he’d been all his life.

He thought of all of that, but instead, with a wry twist of his lips, he merely said, “I’m the Mutt. Now get inside.”

The vampire accepted his answer without any reaction and moved past him, Clio following closely behind her.

The second they crossed into the cave and joined Ymir, Jean, and Levi, the gasps and murmurs started, and the disbelief and outrage grew by the second. Clio wished that he could see Sasha; it would have been nice to see a friendly face amid the sea of hostile ones. But he couldn't find her in the crowd.

“What is the meaning of this?” A burly man called out.

“Have you lost your minds?!” A lady shrieked. “They’re monsters! What are they doing here?!”

“Let’s kill them!” Someone hidden in the back suggested. “There are only two of them—we can take them!”

Levi stepped forward and held up a hand. “Quiet. All of you need to calm down, shut up, and listen.”

There were a few indignant huffs, but the chattering dissipated.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Levi continued when the cave was silent. “We are going to walk to Fortress Rose, making use of the old Legion outposts along the way for shelter and supplies. Anyone who can fight will arm themselves when we reach the first outpost.” He paused. “This journey will not be safe. There will be titans, vampires, and many other threats. Everyone standing up here with me will do their best to protect you, but do not think for a second that we can keep all of you safe; there are five of us and five times as many of you. Every person here needs to be prepared to fight for his life,” he added gravely. “We leave in the morning.”

Instantly, the murmuring resumed. The burly man who had spoken earlier pushed to the front of the crowd and crossed his thick arms across his even thicker chest. He gave Levi an accusing look. “So _you’re_ gonna protect us, huh? Then explain why there’s a vampire and a titan in here with us.”

There was a muted chorus of assent following his statement.

“Clio Jones isn’t a titan,” Levi said, and Clio resisted the urge to make a swift retreat from the cave as he felt thirty pairs of eyes zero in on him. “He may not be entirely human,” the Captain continued, “but he is a trained hunter and he is on our side.”

The burly man wasn’t pacified. “And _her_?”

“The vampire and I have an arrangement. She isn’t going to harm any of you.”

“And what—we’re just supposed to take your word on that?”

A woman stepped forward from the crowd, and Clio instantly recognized her as the same woman who’d been standing with Ymir and Jean earlier. The child was still glued to her hip.

“Yes, you are,” she said, loudly enough that everyone else fell silent. “You should take his word, and you should be grateful that we're lucky enough to have someone like him to lead us.” She gave the burly man a withering glare. “Captain Levi is a Reaper,” she said emphatically, and Clio saw the vampire noticeably stiffen beside him. He glanced over at her, curious, only to find that she was staring at Levi, her expression dark.

“And not just any Reaper,” the woman continued. “Before the fortresses, Captain Levi was the leader of the Elite Five. He was responsible for the success of more missions than most hunters even go on in their lifetime. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll place your trust in him, because without the Captain, we aren’t going to make it to Rose.”

The burly man held up his hands in defeat, his thunderous defiance all but gone. “Okay, lady, take it easy. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. It’s just…having some _vampire_ here is highly irregular and I just…” He trailed off and stepped back into the crowd, shrugging at the people around him and muttering excuses for his outburst.

Levi cleared his throat. “Thank you, Petra,” he said quietly, and Clio could have almost sworn that the man was embarrassed by the petite woman's show of loyalty. If he was, though, he covered it quickly, infusing his voice with a tone of command. “If anyone else has a problem with Jones or the vampire, I suggest you get over it. Like it or not, we need them. Is that clear?"

Most people nodded, and while a few individuals looked decidedly unhappy about the situation, no one dared to complain.

"Good," Levi said at length. "Now, as I said before, we will leave in the morning. Until then, rest if you can.”

Slowly, the gathered crowd dispersed back into the small clusters they’d been in before the attack, and Levi turned towards their ragtag group. “How many people did we lose?” He asked his young subordinates.

“Three,” Ymir said. “We put the bodies outside, but we don’t really have any way to bury them. We kept them separate from the titan remains, though,” she added.

Levi nodded. “That’s the best we can do for them.” He gave her and Jean a brief once-over. “Get some rest. I need you both to be alert in the morning.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Both of them looked about ready to fall over. They saluted and went in search of a place to collapse, leaving Levi alone with Clio and Mikasa.

The Captain addressed the vampire first, barely even looking at her as he spoke. “Wait for me outside.”

She said nothing, but her eyes tightened ever so slightly before she turned and walked away.

Levi waited until she was out of earshot before he spoke again. “Do you know how many titans attacked us here?” He asked.

Clio frowned, wondering why the Captain would ask such a strange question. “No,” he answered. “I didn’t notice.”

“Ten,” Levi said. “Ten _exactly_.”

His meaning sank in almost instantly, and Clio drew in a sharp breath. “You think…you think it was a _raiding_ party?” He asked, incredulous.

Levi shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing for sure. But titans were hunters, once; it’s possible that some of those instincts could be resurfacing. And even if they aren’t, they’re clearly not as mindlessly rabid as they used to be. The attack on Maria was organized—multiple groups of titans attacking all at once, from different entry points. It couldn't have been done without foresight.”

It wasn’t often that Clio felt fearful of anything, but in that moment, he was well and truly afraid of the implications that rested in the Captain’s statement.

“So you’re saying that it was a guerrilla attack, some kind of...of pseudo-military blitzkrieg planned and executed by a bunch of once-hunters.” Which, by extension, Clio realized, would mean that tonight’s attack was supposed to have functioned as a sweeper mission—to make sure there weren’t any survivors.

“Shit.” Clio could practically feel the color draining from the human side of his face. “You really think that’s possible?”

A pronounced divot appeared in Levi’s brow. “I think a lot of things changed while we were hiding behind our walls,” he said. “So yes, I think it’s possible. I think our enemy has evolved.”

There was a second part to that statement, an unspoken one that left Clio feeling hollow.

_Our enemy has evolved, but we haven't._

 

**

A Reaper.

She had been bested, robbed, and virtually enslaved by a _Reaper._

Mikasa was livid, filled with so much rage and hatred that she was surprised her blood didn’t boil in her veins.

For five years, she’d wanted nothing more than to avenge her people, to make the humans answer for the atrocities they’d committed against her race and for the plague they’d unleashed on the earth. For five long years, she’d dreamed of the day when opportunity and fate would align and she would wipe the humans from the earth as they’d so effectively done to her kind, of the day when she would finally set things right. For five endless, lonely years, the promise of ending the humans had been the only thing fueling her.

And now she was condemned to _help_ them, to see them safely to another place where they could cower behind their walls and never suffer her vengeance, all because a Reaper and his mutated lapdog had stolen her heart.

Tears of bitterness pooled in her eyes, and as she stood there staring into the darkness, a part of her wished she’d chosen to endure the bleeds instead of agreeing to this temporary alliance. It would have been the nobler thing to do.

_I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry, Father. I have disgraced your memory._

It was laughable to think that she had once aspired to be Guardian of her people, to follow in her father’s footsteps, when here she was now, standing watch like a leashed guard dog for her sworn enemies.

Her sense of fury and humiliation had never been more acute.

Until the Reaper joined her outside.

She attacked without thinking, only to fall into the dirt a moment later, her entire body racked with agony.

The human snorted above her, her heart once again constricted tightly in his fist. “Did you honestly think I wasn’t expecting that?" He asked, unimpressed. "How pathetic.”

Mikasa arduously rose to her feet, baring her fangs as she stared him down and trying to ignore the alluring wound on his shoulder. He'd torn off a strip of his shirt to stem the bleeding, but the makeshift bandage wasn't enough to blot out the rich smell of the blood beneath it. It made Mikasa's stomach tighten with need, and if her hatred hadn't eclipsed every other feeling at that moment, her hunger would have been nigh impossible to ignore.

But for the moment, she did ignore it. “Not as pathetic as you, Reaper,” she growled, forcing herself to look away from his shoulder. “You bear the title of a professional butcher but you are only able to beat me because of underhanded thievery. You’re a killer _and_ a coward.”

The Reaper’s steel eyes flashed. “I look forward to the day when I get to prove you wrong about one of those things,” he vowed.

Mikasa pulled her lips back, fully exposing her fangs. “Give me back my heart and it can be this day,” she said. _And then I will tear out your beating, human heart and drain it while you watch._

But the Reaper denied her the confrontation she so desired. “No,” he answered. “Not until these people reach Rose.” He pocketed her heart. “Now go take the left flank. You and I are on watch until morning.”

Mikasa retracted her fangs, realizing that she wasn’t going to get her way. Not tonight, anyway. But she needed a promise, needed something else to live for, something to get her through the degrading journey ahead of her.

And the Reaper, the man who had taken her most sacred possession and was carrying it around like it was some worthless trinket, was ironically the only one who could give that to her.

She swallowed what little pride she had left. “How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?” She asked. “How do I know that when we reach your stronghold, you won’t just run and hide with the rest of the humans?”

The Reaper gave her a look worthy of his namesake. “Because,” he said with deceptive softness, “I hate you more than I love anything in this world. Trust me when I tell you that I will not pass up the opportunity to kill you.” He looked at her with unbridled disgust. “In fact, nothing will give me greater pleasure.”

“Good,” Mikasa said, using her few inches of extra height to glare down at him. She added a taste of venom to her words. “At least there is one thing in this world that we can agree on.”

And with that, she stormed off, filled with the hollow satisfaction of knowing that at the very least, their story was destined to end in blood.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And so concludes the roughly three chapter long set-up for this story. (Now on to the good stuff!)
> 
> On a side note, I finally decided to get a tumblr, so hit me up there if you feel so inclined. You'll find me at: whispermethis.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, I hope this story has been enjoyable so far. I tend to shy away from writing AUs because I find it difficult to stay in character in non-canon settings, but I also like to challenge myself (hence this story). Needless to say, feedback is welcome!


	4. Exodus Begins

_"Now that the preventative vaccination has been successfully mass produced and distributed to our human citizens, it is both ethical and imperative that we turn our efforts towards finding a cure for those who have been infected by the Titan vaccine. Despite their present afflictions, the once-hunters are still citizens of the human race. It is our responsibility as fellow humans and our obligation as scientists to help them recover their lost humanity and reclaim their lives. What science has taken away, science can also restore."_

\- Quote taken from Dr. Hanji Zoe's speech to the Chief Commander's High Council, dated Year 2 A.T.

**

 

Jean was used to disappointment, but this particular day was going above and beyond the usual, even by his low standards.

They’d set out from the cave at a time Captain Levi had euphemistically referred to as morning but was more like the ass crack of dawn, and they’d been walking ever since. Cap had assigned him and Ymir to the main cohort so he and the vampire could scout ahead and the Mutt could cover the rear, and while Jean had been happy at first with the assignment because it meant that he wouldn’t have to spend the entire day alongside the creepy half-breed or the bloodsucker, he was beginning to think that he and Ymir had gotten the short end of the stick.

Twenty-seven people was a lot of people to look after on a good day, but looking after twenty-seven terrified, tired, hungry people who had just lived through two tragedies in the span of twenty-four hours and hadn’t ventured into the world outside Maria for the last five years was proving to be another matter entirely. One that Jean wasn't prepared to deal with.

For starters, people kept bombarding him and Ymir with questions that they didn’t have answers to: _how far is the outpost? Will there be food when we get there? Is Captain Levi back yet? Are we safe out here?_ And Jean’s personal favorite, asked by the same burly man who’d made a scene the previous night: _why do you two get the weapons? What makes you so qualified to protect us?_

Then there were the breakdowns. The first one hadn’t been that bad—a chubby little boy had started wailing shortly after they started out, begging his parents to take him home while they tried to comfort and quiet him, but he’d shut up quickly enough when Petra’s kid slapped him across the face and told him to get a grip.

Petra hadn’t been exactly pleased with her daughter’s behavior, but Jean had found it pretty fucking hilarious. Cody Ral might only be six, but she had an undeniable amount of moxie.

In fact, he was still joking with Ymir about it when the second breakdown happened.

It was a woman this time, and she just started screaming—fell to her knees right where she was standing and just… _snapped_.

Jean nearly jumped out of his skin, the shrillness and pitch of her shrieks sending a shiver down his spine. "The hell...?" He shot a worried glance at Ymir, but she looked as startled as him, staring dumbly at the screaming woman, her arms at her sides and her mouth open in shock.

The woman started tearing out clumps of her hair, screaming about monsters and darkness and crying out for her husband and children. _"Peter! Lilly!"_ She wailed. " _Don't run away when Mama's talking to you!"_ Tears started streaming from her unfocused eyes, tracking down her cheeks and slipping off her chin as she pounded at the earth with clenched fists full of torn blonde hair. _"Come back!”_ She shrieked, her tone getting increasingly more desperate and agitated. _“Come BACK!"_

"Somebody find her children, for God's sake!" One of the bystanders shouted. A few others turned towards Jean and Ymir. " _Do_ something!" One of them commanded.

Jean was about to stammer something in reply when Ymir beat him to it. "What do you want us to do, huh?" She snapped. She gestured to the woman. "Her family died in Maria. Titans got them."

A hush fell over the group for a second, leaving nothing but the awful sounds of the woman's screams. But even shock and pity could only silence the group for so long.

"Somebody needs to shut her up."

The ominous suggestion propelled Jean into action. He knew what it meant, could hear the ugly implication barely hidden behind the vague statement. He stepped towards the hysterical woman, holding out his arms. "Listen, let's not do anything rash, okay?"

The burly man stepped forward. "Get out of the way, boy," he said. "I'll do what needs to be done."

Jean felt a nervous sweat break out on his brow. _Since when was everybody standing so close?_ "I'm not going to let you kill her," he said, trying to sound authoritative, wishing that he could command people’s respect the way Captain Levi could. But no one ever listened to Jean, and now was no exception. The group began closing in on him, and even Ymir’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to hold them back.

The circle widened slightly as the woman started seizing, people stumbling back in surprise and fear as she began convulsing. Her screams tapered off into incoherent keening as her muscles and limbs spasmed.

A woman standing close to the front of the group covered her ears. "Make it stop!" She pleaded, and Jean felt their tenuous control of the situation slipping away as fear began to incite mob mentality and the people began to creep forward once more. 

"I'll do it myself," a man said as he pushed towards the front of the constricting crowd.

Jean blocked him. "No, you won't."

The man shoved at him. "The hell I won't. Just because you don't have the balls doesn't mean—"

“Get back—all of you.”

Jean whirled around, exhaling in extreme relief as he saw the crowd part for Captain Levi. "Keep everyone back," he said to Jean and Ymir, though it was an unnecessary request; the vampire was only a few paces behind him, and as she shadowed his movements, the crowd hastily parted in an effort to stay away from her.

The Captain knelt down behind the writhing woman, ignoring the way her thrashing limbs struck at him, and gently cradled her head in his hands, angling it so that she couldn’t choke on her own spit. He held her like that as her muscles continued to spasm, not moving even when the foam that gathered at the corners of her mouth dripped onto the light fabric of his pants.

Finally, after what felt to Jean like an eternity, the woman stilled.

“Is she dead?” Someone whispered.

Captain Levi shook his head. “No. Just passed out.”

“We should leave her here,” another voice said, and Jean knew instantly who the speaker was.

“If she wakes up and starts screaming like that again,” the burly man continued, “she’s gonna alert every titan in the near parts that we’re here.” He snorted. “If she hasn’t already. She’s a threat to our safety. And besides, she’s clearly lost it.”

A few other people nodded their assent.

The Captain wasn’t one of them. He placed the woman’s head gently on the ground and stood up, looking at the larger man with barely concealed disgust. “You want to leave a helpless woman alone in the forest to die? I don’t think so. In fact,” he said, taking a few small steps towards the other man, “ _you’re_ going to carry her until she wakes up."

"You must be joking if you think—"

Levi's arm shot out like the strike of a coiled snake, almost too fast even for Jean to catch. He grabbed the man's shirt and yanked him down to eye level. "You want to give me shit about it? By all means, go ahead. After you're done, I'll demonstrate how I deal with insubordination." His voice was so even and calm that he could have been talking about how he liked to fold his shirts or take his tea, but the threat was unmistakable.

And clearly not lost on the burly man, because the instant that Levi released him, he nodded meekly and went to retrieve the woman.

Then the Captain turned to the rest of the people watching, his eyes blazing with the hard set of authority that Jean wished he were able to replicate. “Let me make something absolutely clear,” he said. “This might not be the Legion and you might not be trained hunters, but right now you should all think of yourselves as soldiers under my command. We will operate like a unit, which means that I will protect you to the best of my ability. It also means that you will have each other’s backs. No one gets left behind." He paused. "And when I'm not here, Ymir and Kirschtein are in charge. Obey their orders." He scanned the crowd. "Understood?”

Most people grumbled or nodded in reply, which seemed to satisfy Levi. He gave Jean and Ymir a brief nod and turned away, the vampire trailing silently after him.

And then it was just Jean, Ymir, and the twenty-seven people Cap had assigned them to babysit.

Jean cleared his throat. "All right then," he said, cringing at his own awkwardness. "Let's get a move on, people."

Thankfully, they listened.

After that, the hours dragged on in quiet monotony, leaving Jean to ponder nothing but his thoughts—which were mostly about how likely it was that he was going to have his own breakdown if they didn't get where they were going sometime soon. On top of being exceptionally tired, he was so thirsty that his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and the corners of his lips were as dry as a desert, no matter how many times he licked at them. Then there were the blisters that had formed on his heels earlier in the day. He hadn't looked down to see how big they'd gotten, but he'd felt them pop a mile or two back and now the blood and fluid had run down and stained the inside of his shoes, leaving his raw ankles to be further chafed by every brush of fabric against broken skin.

Ymir saw him grimacing at one point and came over, falling into step beside him. "You okay, Mule?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic. You?"

Ymir shrugged. "Never better."

It pissed him off that she seemed so nonchalant while he was practically limping. "Seriously? How do you not have blisters right now? My feet are killing me."

She pointed to the bottom hem of her shirt, which was torn and frayed. "I wrapped my ankles, dumbass." She took a peek down at his heels and made a face. "Which is something I think you should probably do from now on. Those look _bad_."

"Yeah, well, they feel bad."

Ymir gave him a sympathetic look. "Day one, Mule," she said solemnly.

_Day one. Day one of infinity._

Jean didn't bother keeping up the conversation after that, and the day dragged on in silence. No one else had a breakdown, and nobody even really talked. Occasionally, Jean would hear a few whispered words passed between a person or two, but other than that, nothing broke the quiet until they arrived, sometime late in the afternoon, at the bunker.

“Well, shit,” Ymir stated.

Jean couldn't have said it better himself, because yeah— ‘ _well, shit’_ kind of summed it up.

The small metal bunker situated in the overgrown clearing had long since succumbed to the ravages of time, its surfaces rusted over and covered in heavy, leafy trellises, its base ringed by a perimeter of weeds and brush.

Worst of all, though, was the door at its center, which was bent inward and gaping at an unnatural angle. It looked as though someone had taken a club and battered at it until it gave…or like something had pummeled its way in, which was, unfortunately, much more likely.

“Great,” Jean muttered. “Do you think there’s going to be anything left in there?”

Ymir sighed wearily, sounding every bit as disappointed as he felt. “Nothing but jack and shit,” she answered. She straightened, looking at something over Jean's shoulder. “Cap.”

Sure enough, Captain Levi appeared from behind the bunker, walking towards them and ignoring the questions and complaints being hurled at him by everyone who hadn’t collapsed against a tree or passed out from exhaustion.

“We’re not completely out of luck,” he said as he reached them, keeping his voice so low that both Jean and Ymir had to duck their heads to hear him properly. “There’s a weapons storage room at the back that’s still well stocked, and a few unopened rations of dried food that haven’t spoiled.”

“Enough for everyone?”

Levi shook his head. “Enough for half, probably.” He pursed his lips unhappily. “But there’s no water.”

Jean’s already parched throat seemed to dry out further at that. He swallowed uncomfortably. “What do you want us to do?”

“Divide the rations, then get everyone situated inside. The door obviously won’t lock and it’ll be cramped, but it’s better than making camp out in the open.” He looked past them, surveying the haggard group. He frowned. “I’ll pass out weapons.”

Ymir snorted. “Do you honestly think that’ll do any good? I mean, look at them. Most of these people look like barely-animated corpses.”

Levi’s frown deepened. “I know, but it is what is. And they’ll have more of a chance surviving this trip with a weapon in their hands than without.”

Jean thought of the bashed-in door, feeling a stirring of unease in the pit of his empty stomach. "What exactly are we protecting ourselves from, Cap?" He asked. "Animals, vampires, titans...?"

"Yes," Levi answered simply. "We can't rule anything out. Now get to your tasks. We only have a couple of hours of daylight left and I don't want anyone out after dark."

Ymir crossed her arms. “What about Fangs and the Mutt? You’re not planning on letting them stay inside with us, are you?”

“None of us will be inside. As soon as the sun goes down we'll start a rotating watch. Two hour shifts each. One of us with one of them.”

Jean blanched. “You want us to pair up with them?”

“Yes.” Levi didn’t so much as blink. “I don’t trust either of them on their own. Ymir, you’ll take second shift with the vampire. Jean, you’ll take third shift with Jones. I’ll take the first and last shifts on my own.”

Jean mumbled a weak okay, but Ymir’s lips tightened into a thin line, her brow creasing in stress. “Cap, what if something happens? I don’t know how to kill a vamp.”

Levi hesitated, and then, almost reluctantly, he unsheathed the double-bladed boomerang from his hip. There was a small pouch tied securely to the center, resting so snugly between the blades that it could have been mistaken for an inlaid centerpiece.

“The vampire’s heart is in there,” he said. “If she does anything to harm you or anyone else, I’ll pierce it. That’s the arrangement we have. She knows the terms.”

“ _T_ _hat’s_ why she agreed to help us—because you took her heart?” Jean couldn’t believe his ears. “What happens if she gets it back?”

Levi’s tone was firm. “She won’t.” He tucked the boomerang back into its holster, ending the conversation. “Go do your jobs,” he said, and he left them standing there without another word of explanation.

Jean watched him walk away and then took a deep breath, mustering up a bout of reserve energy and pushing down his curiosity and misgivings. He made to start for the bunker.

Ymir held him back. “Jean.”

He turned, frowning down at where her hand was gripping his arm, more than a little surprised by the fact that she had used his actual name instead of his condescending nickname. "What’s got you so spooked?" He asked.

She blinked at him like he was the biggest idiot she’d ever seen. "Gee, let me think: maybe that creepy shit Cap just showed us? Or are you too stupid to realize that he meant ‘heart’ in the literal sense of the word?”

Jean clenched his jaw in irritation. “I know what he meant.”

“Good. Then you also know how insane it is.” She exhaled. “Look. I know Cap is crazy strong, but this is too big a risk, even for him. That vampire’s not safe, and sooner or later she’s going to get her heart back." Ymir gave him a pointed look, her brown eyes were blazing with intensity. “I don’t think we should wait for that to happen.”

Jean swallowed. “So what are you suggesting?”

“We finish her off ourselves, first chance we get.”

Jean’s mouth opened in shock. Ymir had never been one to mince words, but this…

“You want to steal from Cap?” He blurted, flabbergasted. “Fuck, Ymir, I think the dehydration is getting to you. What you’re suggesting is insane, not to mention impossible.”

“No, it isn’t," she went on, undeterred by his comments. "All we have to do is wait for a moment when Cap doesn’t have that boomerang on his hip. Then we take the heart, destroy it, and ask for his forgiveness after the vamp is dead. Say want you want about Cap, but there’s no way he wears his weapons twenty-four/seven. There _will_ be a chance to do this. We just have to make sure we take it.”

Jean mulled over the idea, surprised that he didn’t find it quite as preposterous as he would have thought. Still, there was something nagging at the back of his head, a small misgiving that refused to go away. “Don’t you think there might be a good reason Cap wants the bloodsucker around, though?” He posed. “Just because he hasn’t told us his plan doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one. People wouldn't call him the strongest Reaper since Damon's time unless he had damn good judgment.”

Ymir crossed her arms. “This has nothing to do with Cap. Do you trust that vamp—yes or no?”

At least that had an easy answer. “Of course I don’t.”

“Then how can you be sure she won’t snap and kill someone?” Ymir pressed, stepping in close. “Cap expects us to protect these people. Can you think of a better way to do that than by taking out the threat closest to us?”

He couldn’t. And Ymir knew it.

She smirked. “That’s what I thought.” She stepped back to give him a bit of breathing room, but her eyes never left his. “So,” she asked, “are you in?”

Jean nodded slowly. “I’m in.”

 

**

Cody Ral watched the strange man closely from her perch in the tree, staring down at him like a bird of prey.

_Eyes of a hawk and silent as a…_

Her stomach grumbled. “Shush,” she mumbled, hugging her arms around herself, thinking that maybe if she squeezed tightly enough, she might be able to make her traitorous tummy shut up.

It didn’t work, of course, but when her stomach finally stopped complaining about how empty it was a few seconds later and Cody turned her attention back to the man on the ground, she broke the silence again with a startled yelp.

The man had moved while she’d been distracted, and now he was standing just under her tree, staring up at her with his jarringly mismatched eyes.

For a moment he didn’t say anything, and then he slowly reached into one of his pockets and extracted a small tin. He shook it lightly, making whatever was inside rattle.

“It’s deer jerky,” he said, in a voice that was much friendlier than what Cody was expecting. “Want some?”

Cody didn’t budge from her spot. Her mouth was watering at the prospect of food, but she would have to leave the safety of her tree to get it, and hungry or not, _that_ didn’t seem like a good idea. She couldn't see any fangs, but the dark veins and black eye were more than enough to make him seem sinister. Chewing on her lip, Cody glanced around the area, wondering how far away her mother was.

The man seemed to sense her fear. He sighed. “Here,” he said. “Catch.” He tossed the tin, and Cody caught it instinctively, her hands shooting out to snatch it from the air as it came sailing towards her.

She opened it, her amber eyes going wide as she realized that he’d been telling the truth. Inside were a few slivers of salted deer jerky. Cody crammed one into her mouth, and it took a lot of willpower to resist the urge to purr as the rich flavors coated her tongue. She chewed noisily and swallowed, and then went for a second one, completely absorbed with eating until she heard a chuckle from the man below.

She peeked down at him as she swallowed her second bite. “What’s so funny?”

He cocked his head at her, a bemused smile dancing on his lips. “In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid eat like that. I think you might be more piranha than human.”

Cody had no idea what a piranha was, but she had a feeling he was making fun of her. She scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to emulate her mother’s angry face. “At least I’m not part vampire,” she said. “And at least my face doesn’t look funny like yours does.”

Strangely, it didn’t seem like her words hurt him. He just shook his head, the look of amusement still on his face—or, well, _half_ his face.

“You know, kid, you could be a little nicer to the person who just gave you a free meal. If not, maybe I’ll just come up there and take it back.”

“No!” Cody pressed the tin against her chest, then colored at her own petulance. “Sorry,” she muttered, followed by an even fainter, “Thank you for the jerky.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her a pleasant smile. “And don’t worry: I wouldn’t dream of taking the tin back. You’re clearly hungrier than I am. Besides, you’d probably bite my fingers off for trying.”

Cody found herself returning his smile. “Probably,” she agreed.

“So what’s your name, kid?” He asked as she chewed on a third piece of jerky.

“Cody.” She closed the tin and stuffed it into her front pants pocket for safekeeping. “You’re the Mutt, right?”

“Technically, yes, but my name’s Clio so let’s stick with that.”

 _Clio?_ Cody giggled. “Isn’t Clio a girl’s name?”

He arched a brow at her. “Isn’t Cody a boy’s name?”

Cody’s smile morphed into a pout. “No, it’s _my_ name.”

“Huh." He shrugged his shoulders. "Just like Clio is my name.”

She balled her hands into fists and glared at him, her fear of him giving way to annoyance. She decided that no matter what his name was, she didn’t like him. Adults weren’t supposed to make fun of kids, even if they _were_ part vampire.

“Didn’t Mr. Levi give you a job to do or something?”

Clio nodded. “Yup. I’m supposed to guard the perimeter until dark, which includes that tree you’re sitting in.”

Cody raised her chin. “Well, I don’t need you. Go guard someone else.”

He shrugged. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He took a few steps away and then stopped, turning back to her. “Although...” he pondered slowly, tapping his chin and giving her a contemplative look, “I could really use some help with this guarding business. Want to give it a try?”

Cody sat up straight, surprised. “Really?” She asked, unable to quite keep the bubble of excitement from her voice. “You want me to help you?”

He nodded. “I do. You’ll have to come down from your tree, though.”

Cody debated for a moment, but only briefly. Nobody ever asked her to help with anything; in fact, everyone usually told her to butt out, told her that she was too young to do anything, or told her that well-behaved little girls should know better than to bother grown-ups when they were trying to do something important.

Well, as far as Cody was concerned, those people could stuff it. If Clio was giving her the chance to actually do something, she was going to take it. He might be a little creepy-looking, but he was the first person that hadn't tried to shoo her away or send her inside.

Decision made, Cody climbed down from the tree, easily traversing the gnarled limbs until she was close enough to the bottom to hop to the ground. “Okay,” she said as she landed on her feet and brushed off a few stray pieces of bark clinging to her sweater. “I’ll help.”

"Cool," Clio said, and Cody thought that maybe she did like him a little after all.

“ _There_ you are!”

She and Clio both turned as Petra strode towards them, and Cody felt her stomach flip at the look on her mother’s face, knowing that no matter what excuse she came up with for being out of the bunker, she was still going to be in deep trouble.

Still, Cody figured that she would give it a go. “Hi, Mom,” she said. “I was just helping Clio do his guard duty. He said it was okay.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t say it was okay!” Her mother yelled, full of parental anger. “I don’t remember giving you permission to go anywhere with anyone, young lady. Something could have happened to you!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, her anger giving way to tired frustration. “Don’t you understand, Cody? It’s not safe. You need to be where I tell you to be.” She held out her hand and Cody grasped it without being told. “Let’s get you back inside.”

“Ma’am?”

Petra paused. “Yes?” She asked, and Cody noticed that even though her mother turned her head towards Clio, she didn’t look at him. It also occurred to her then that her mother had ignored Clio since she’d gotten there.

“I just wanted to make you aware that I've been keeping an eye on your daughter since she left the bunker. And I did tell her she could help with guard duty. She may not have been where you told her to be, but I can assure you that she was never alone. I would have protected her if anything had happened.”

Her mother finally looked at him, but Cody noticed that she didn’t look happy or grateful. In fact, she looked even more upset than she had before.

“And who would have protected her from you?” She asked in a way that made Cody squirm. She tugged on Cody’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said, and Cody didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to Clio before she was being pulled away.

She followed along quietly until they made it to the bunker entrance, and then she risked asking the question burning on her tongue. “Mom?”

Petra looked down at her and waited.

“Why were you so mean to Clio?” She asked. “It was like you were mad at him, too, but he didn’t do anything wrong.”

A pained look crossed her mother’s features. “He’s not safe, Cody,” she said. "I don’t want you spending time with him.”

“Is it because of the way he looks?” Cody asked, trying to understand why her mother felt that way. “Because I know he’s kind of scary, but I was talking to him for a little while and he’s not so bad. Besides, he can’t help the way he looks, right?”

Her mother gave her a fond smile and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “No, I suppose he can’t.” She sighed. “But sweetheart, that’s not the reason. I just don’t trust him with you. I need you to promise me that you’ll stay away from him.”

Cody’s shoulders sagged. She wanted to understand, but she didn’t. Still, she nodded. “Okay.” Reluctantly, she retrieved the small tin from her pocket. “Does that mean I have to give this back?” She asked.

Her mother frowned. “What is that?”

Cody slid the lid off and held it up for her mother to see. “Deer jerky. Clio gave it to me because I was hungry.”

Petra blinked in surprise. “He gave you his food ration?” She bit her bottom lip the way Cody always did when she was feeling confused or guilty. “He really gave that to you?”

“Yeah. Do I have to give it back?"

Petra slid the lid closed and pushed it towards her. "No, sweetheart, you can keep it."

"Can I also keep the knife Jean gave me?" She chanced.

Petra rolled her eyes. "No, you may not. Besides, I already gave it back to him. Knives are for hunters, not us."

Cody frowned. "But if you gave it back, where did _that_ one come from?" She asked, pointing to her mother's boot.

"Never you mind."

"But—"

"Please drop it, Cody. It's been a very long day and I do not feel like discussing this with you."

Something in her mother's tone made her listen. If it had been anger she probably would have badgered—Cody was used to getting into arguments with her mother, and a little of the famous Ral wrath wouldn't have made her keep quiet. But it wasn't anger. Her mother sounded upset, and she had that look on her face again—the same look she'd given Clio.

So Cody bit back her curiosity and followed her mother inside, the small tin of deer jerky clutched tightly in her hand.

 

**

For what seemed like the millionth time, Connie leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” in her ear, still sounding as doubtful as he had the first time.

“Yes!” Sasha huffed. “Stop asking me that.” She started to walk faster, pretending that she wasn’t just as scared as Connie was. “Just think of her the way you think of Clio and try not to do anything embarrassing.”

“But has anyone even tried talking to her yet? She could be totally crazy.”

“Captain Levi has.”

“Yeah, but he’s almost as scary as she is,” Connie argued. “I meant anybody _normal_. You know, like you and me.”

 _Probably not,_ Sasha thought, _but there’s a first time for everything._

“Just man up, okay?” She pleaded. “She did save our lives the other day. We’ll just say thank you and then we can head back to the bunker and—”

Connie’s eyes widened to a ridiculous extreme as he ground to a halt. “Holy shit!” He exclaimed, pointing like an imbecile as the subject of their discussion appeared in front of them.

Sasha took an involuntary step back. It made sense that the vampire would move even more silently than Clio did, but it was still disconcerting to have someone pop out of nowhere with no warning, like some kind of phantom-like apparition. Not to mention that it was a little creepy that the vampire was just standing there, less than two yards away from them, her pale face devoid of all expression.

“Oh,” Sasha mumbled, then blushed. Between her and Connie, they were making a great first impression.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, hi,” she said, giving the vampire a small, unnecessary wave.

The vampire stared back at them, saying nothing.

Sasha tried again. “We, um, wanted to say thanks,” she explained. “For saving us from that titan. We’d be dead if you hadn’t been there.”

Ironically, the vampire suddenly looked more startled than they did. She shifted, her muscles tensing, the black of her pupils expanding slightly.

But in spite of the predatory façade, Sasha was struck by a wave of compassion. _She isn’t being confrontational; she’s being defensive._

It reminded Sasha of the way Clio had acted when she’d first met him.

Trying to ease the tension, she gave the vampire a warm smile. “There’s no trick,” she said. “We really just wanted to thank you for saving our lives. I’m Sasha. This is Connie.”

When he failed to say anything, Sasha gave Connie a not-so-discreet elbow to the ribs, hoping the jolt would be enough to remind him that he had a working voice.

It did. “Er, yeah,” he said instantly, much to her relief. “I’m Connie. What’s your name?”

The blackness receded from the vampire’s eyes. “Mikasa,” she answered. She looked at Sasha. “I’m surprised that a human would thank me for anything,” she said quietly, “but you’re welcome.”

Sasha took it as a sign of encouragement that the vampire had decided to talk. “We’re not _all_ bad,” she teased. "Even though it might seem that way sometimes."

Before she could say anything else, Connie cut in. “Why did you save us?” He asked.

The vampire looked back at him blankly for a moment, and then her eyes flickered to Sasha’s stomach.

Sasha felt an instant flare of panic. “You don’t need to answer our questions, Mikasa,” she said in a rush. “We just wanted to say thanks and we did so we’ll be going.” Her blush returned with a vengeance. “It was nice meeting you,” she added, and then she tugged on Connie’s arm, pulling him away before Mikasa had a chance to say anything that might give away the secret Sasha was not ready to share.

“What the hell was that about?” Connie asked as they neared the bunker. “It was your bright idea to go talk to her, and then you practically ran away. Why?”

Sasha shook her head, not quite able to look him in the eye. “No reason. I just…didn’t want to bother her with questions.”

Connie frowned up at her, clearly not buying the bullshit. “Sasha, what’s going on?”

She swallowed. She couldn’t tell him the truth—not now, not with everything else going on. “Nothing. Let’s just go inside.”

“Hey.” He took her hands in his, squeezing gently. “I know sometimes I’m not the smartest guy around, or the strongest, but you can still talk to me about stuff. If you tell me what’s bothering you, I might be able to help fix it.”

Sasha bobbed her head. “I know you’d try.” _But this isn’t some problem we can fix. This is something that’s going to change everything._ “I rely on you more than you think, Connie. But for now, can we please just go inside?”

His shoulders sagged, his expression a little crestfallen, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah.” He tried for a smile. “Let’s go claim our sleeping spot before all the goods ones get taken. We can talk about stuff some other time.”

 

**

It was sometime in the grey darkness before dawn, while the humans were still sleeping in the small bunker, that he came to find her.

She watched him impassively, noting the mud staining the bottom inch of his fatigues, the plethora of new weapons attached to his person at easily accessible places, the pack on his back, the fresh bandaging on his shoulder, the fatigue lining his emotionless eyes. She also noticed that the front pocket of his pants was flat—no longer burdened with the tiny bundle it had held the day before.

“Where is it?” She asked.

“Safe,” he answered curtly. He held out a pack identical to the one he was wearing. “Here,” he said. “Put it on.”

She took it from him, surprised at how light it was considering its bulk.

Before she could ask, he said, “I filled it with empty canteens. If I remember correctly, there’s a river somewhere between here and the next outpost.” A now-familiar trace of disgust seeped into his voice. “I know water may not be _your_ liquid of choice, but it is a necessity for the rest of us.”

He turned and started walking without so much as a glance at her, simply _assuming_ that she would follow him. Like a slave. Like a _pet_.

It took real effort to keep her fangs from descending, to keep from attacking him.

She slipped the pack onto her shoulders and started after him, keeping as much distance between them as she could without losing sight of him.

He wove his way easily through the trees, at a much faster pace than the one they’d taken the previous day when the rest of the humans had been with them. He never slowed or stopped, either, and his steps never faltered—not even when rocks, roots, and other obstructions made it difficult to find secure footing. He walked like he knew the woods, his movements as steady and sure as hers were.

 _Of course he knows the woods,_ came the black thought. _Reapers were the ones who led the raids to find our villages._

Unwanted images flashed before her eyes—death, blood, bodies. The remains of her people strewn in the dirt.

She blinked them away, but couldn't ignore the ugly taste the anger left in her mouth. And suddenly, she had to know. “How many of my people have you killed?”

Even though he was a good twenty paces in front of her and she hadn't raised her voice, he answered almost immediately. “I don’t know.” He didn’t break his stride. "A lot."

Mikasa thought of the families that had been lost to Legion raids, of the heartbreak and horror and shattered lives every time the hunters came. She thought of the orphans, the small children who died of starvation after their families had been slaughtered. She bristled. “How can you not know? How can you take the life of a living thing and not know?”

He shrugged, not phased by the hostility in her voice. “I just don’t. I was more worried about keeping my soldiers alive than about keeping track of my kill count.”

His _kill count_. She clenched her fists so hard that her nails bit into the flesh of her palms. “How can you talk about the people you’ve murdered as though they’re just notches in your belt?" She took a few steps closer to him. "Is life worth so little to you, Reaper?”

He stopped and turned to face her, so close that she could see the steady pulse at the base of his throat and smell the faint aroma of blood beneath the new bandages on his shoulder. “No,” he said coldly, “just yours.”

Mikasa struck him, bringing her hand up so quickly that he didn’t have time to react, even with his lightning-quick reflexes. The sound of her palm striking his skin echoed around them, the only sound for miles.

He did nothing in retaliation, just stared at her, his gaze as cool as ever despite the warmth her slap had ignited in his cheek.

The warmth of blood pooling beneath his skin.

Her throat tightened. She needed…

“Are you finished?”

His question snapped her out of it. She stepped back. “Yes.” _For now._

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, because I don’t have time for your shit. Everyone’s going to die of dehydration if we don’t find water soon, and I don’t fucking intend to let that happen.”

Mikasa sneered at him. "How noble of you, Reaper," she mocked, apparently _not_ finished. "It's impressive that you can blow up hundreds of people and still pretend to care about the few stragglers that are left."

His lidded eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't talk about shit you don't understand, bloodsucker."

"I understand perfectly," she answered, barely able to suppress her hatred. "You were attacked by creatures _you_ created and decided that the only way out was by mass murdering the citizens you were supposed to protect. Your lack of loyalty and bravery is an embarrassment to your own kind." She lowered her voice. "Not that I'm surprised," she added, her tone like acid. "I heard the stories about you Reapers, about how you would search out villages of my people and kill every living being you could slice your blades through, about how you would desecrate the bodies of those you had killed and loot their remains. No one that does that has any capacity for caring." She pulled her lips back just far enough so that he could see the tips of her fangs. "Face it, Reaper: you are more heartless than I'll ever be."

Loathing wasn't a vicious enough word to describe the look the Reaper gave her. "You place a lot of blame on my shoulders for things I've never done," he said darkly. "Hearing stories and living through them are two different things, vampire, and your version of events is way fucking warped." He shifted the pack on his shoulders and turned away from her. "Get your fucking facts straight before you spout your bullshit opinions."

Mikasa was about to reply when she heard the muffled howl. She froze instantly, and the Reaper held up a hand, signaling for quiet.

The wolves appeared moments later—three of them creeping out from the trees about fifty feet ahead of them and stalking towards them, fangs bared, yellow eyes fixed on them.

Yellow eyes that were almost overtaken by exploded black pupils.

Mikasa drew in a sharp breath. _They’re infected!_

The Reaper slipped the pack from his shoulders and took out his machete, eyeing the wolves with such calm ferocity that Mikasa would have almost admired his fearlessness under other circumstances.

Until she realized that he couldn’t see the wolves’ eyes from this distance. Her own eyes widened. _He doesn’t know that they’re infected._

For a long moment, she toyed with the idea of letting him find out on his own. She could wait until one of the wolves bit him, wait until he was retching blood and spasming with death throes. She could say something as she stood over his corpse.

But then she thought of the pregnant human girl and her silly-looking boyfriend, of the children who were still so young, of the woman who had had the seizure the day before.

_No one gets left behind._

Mikasa had watched him closely since they’d left the cave, long enough to know that the hunters relied on him and the others looked to him as their leader. He was the glue holding them together, and if she let the Reaper die here, now, all of them would be left behind. All of them would die.

And as much as she hated him, she couldn’t bring herself to condemn the others. Not all of them.

The Reaper might be able to hate an entire race, but Mikasa was surprised to discover that she couldn’t.

So she buried her hatred and warned him. “They’re rabid,” she said as the wolves drew nearer. “Infected. Don’t let them bite you.”

He stopped short, glancing at her over his shoulder. "How do you know?"

"Their eyes. Their pupils are ruptured."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. My vision is far better than yours, Reaper."

He gave her a curious look, then nodded. “Okay. Take the one on the right. I’ll take the one on the left. Whichever one of us finishes first will take the center one.”

There was no hesitation in his orders, no questioning to make sure she’d understood, just terse commands.

_Take the one on the right. I’ll take the one on the left._

He might as well have been talking about her people; no doubt he’d given identical orders during his raids.

It ignited a flare of anger deep in her chest, but Mikasa channeled it towards the wolf, using it to ready herself for the attack.

The rabid creature had traded its padding steps for running ones and now it was charging at her, its muzzle pulled back as it snarled.

But Mikasa didn’t flinch. She watched it calmly, waiting, her muscles bunching beneath her skin like a cat’s as the wolf closed the distance between them.

Ten yards, five yards, three…

It jumped into the air, teeth bared.

And Mikasa met it halfway, flipping above it in a graceful arc. Reaching down with her hands, she grabbed it by the neck, dug her fingers into its matted fur, and twisted sharply.

The animal made a strangled whimper as Mikasa snapped its neck, and then it fell to the ground, dead, its muddled eyes glazing over.

There was a menacing growl from behind her.

Mikasa turned, bringing her hands up just as the other wolf leapt onto her, its jaws snapping mere inches from her face.

She fell, hard, twisting her head from side to side as the wolf continued to snap at her.

It was stronger than she was expecting, and the stink of sickness was making her head spin.

Biting back a wave of nausea, she let her fangs descend and her talons sprout from beneath her fingertips. Carefully, she tensed the fingers of her free hand and moved them down towards the wolf’s chest, talons pointing up, trying to get the angle right while still holding the beast at bay.

She stabbed her hand upwards, ripping through fur and skin and sinew, embedding her talons deep into the wolf’s chest cavity.

With a cry, she yanked out its heart and threw the animal off of her, casting aside the bloody organ as she did so. The wolf and its heart landed a few feet away, blood pooling from the gaping wound in its chest, the smell of infection even more pungent now that it was dead.

But then, beneath the sickness, Mikasa smelled the blood.

Rich, warm, and still pulsing with life.

Her eyes went black as midnight and her fangs throbbed with need.

_No!_

She tried to hold back, tried to ignore it, feverishly rubbing her arms in the dirt to wipe away the blood dripping from her fingers, but there was more blood _right there_ , mere feet away, seeping into the ground, and she was so, so thirsty, her dry veins starving for fluid— _any_ fluid, tainted or not. She had gone so long - too long - without feeding and her body was all but shaking with the force of her need, her mouth watering at the mere prospect of quenching her thirst even for a second.

She crawled towards the wolf’s body even though she knew she couldn’t drink, even though she knew she it would make her sick, because all she could see and think was blood.

She would accept the consequences of her actions later, just as long as she could have one, blissful taste of warm, smooth…

The Reaper yanked her back by her hair, his fingers twisting painfully in the black strands as he pulled her away from the wolf.

Mikasa yelped in pain as she landed on her backside, and then she turned on him, still mad with bloodlust, her body shaking with a need so vicious that she was past caring that he had her heart, past caring that he would probably give her the bleeds if she didn’t stop.

She jumped to her feet and clawed at him, closing her fingers around his throat with bruising pressure, her talons digging into his skin.

The Reaper narrowed his eyes, not in anger but in intense focus, and grabbed her forearm, holding her in place, ensuring that her hand stayed around his throat as he started to walk them backwards.

At first, Mikasa was too far gone to notice how strange his behavior was, but the farther away they got from the wolves, from the _blood,_ the more her sense of awareness began to return to her.

And the bloodlust receded, just enough for her to regain control.

She blinked and released her hold on his throat, though he kept his hand wrapped securely around her arm, watching her closely.

She retracted her fangs, still breathing hard. “Why…?” She asked, staring at the angry red marks her claws had left on his throat.

He cocked a brow. “Did I stop you?” He finished. “You said they were infected. I assume that means it would be a bad fucking idea for you to drink their blood, right?”

She nodded. His hand was warm on her arm, and she could feel where each of his fingers was pressing against her skin. “Yes," she admitted, "but why would you care?”

The utter lack of emotion on his face made it clear that compassion was not the answer. “I already told you, vampire," he said, "I can’t get these people to Rose without your help. You drinking some shitty blood and going rabid now – or whatever the fuck would happen – wouldn’t exactly help my cause.” He let go of her arm. “Besides, now we’re even.”

"Even?"

"You told me that they were infected."

A thick wave of shame roll over her. Yes, she had, hadn't she? Whatever her motivation, she had helped a Reaper. Intentionally. And the reality of that was enough to make her cringe. "It was a momentary lapse of judgment," she muttered, glaring at him. She raised her chin. "And you promised me a fight," she added, justifying her actions. "I wouldn't want you to weasel out of our deal by dying prematurely."

To her complete surprise, the Reaper snorted. "Saving my life so that you can take it? How _heartless_." Even if he hadn't overemphasized the word, the smug gleam in his eyes made it unambiguously clear that the pun had been intentional. He took a step closer to her, invading her personal space and filling her senses with the faint yet potent scent of his blood. 

Mikasa tensed, wrestling with the simultaneous urges to step back and rid herself of the temptation or to step forward and sink her aching fangs into his neck.

"But you needn't worry, vampire," the Reaper continued, voice like cold, smooth silk. "Even without your help, it would take a lot more than three wolves to kill me." He stepped away, granting Mikasa a slight reprieve. He frowned. "Your eyes are black," he commented. "Are you about to go feral again or something?"

His ignorance of her situation was maddening, but Mikasa hated him too much to admit that she was dangerously close to her breaking point. He'd already taken her heart; she refused to give him the last tenuous shred of her dignity. She would rather starve.

So she tamed the blackness and lied through her tightly clenched teeth. "I'm fine. That just happens sometimes."

"Good." He walked over and retrieved his pack from where he'd dropped it earlier. "Let's go. We have to make up for lost time."

Mikasa shouldered her own pack once more and fell into step behind him, trying to ignore the fact that her hunger pangs were worse than they had been before.

 

**

The forest had grown dark again, and with the humans all cloistered inside the bunker, it had also grown quiet. The only sound that filled the clearing was the sharp crackle of burning wood, and even that was only a slight disturbance to the quiet because the fire was small and beginning to burn out.

Mikasa watched the flames dance into the night sky from her perch on a nearby log, enjoying the solitude. It was the first time she’d had more than a moment to herself since the Reaper had taken her heart, and she was beyond grateful for it. Even after they’d left the first bunker and traveled to the second, he’d kept her on a tight leash, and he hadn’t once let her keep watch without supervision. The only reason she was alone now was because he’d relieved her and gone off to scout a wider perimeter.

When they were on the move it was easier to ignore how claustrophobic her situation was, but they’d been at this bunker for three days and Mikasa was growing more restless by the hour. The bunker was stocked with food and it was much more secure than the first place they’d been, which was why they had lingered for so long.

The delay had been wonderful for the tired humans, but it had been agonizing for her. Her hunger was constantly getting worse, and there hadn’t been so much as a rodent to feed on. There were barely any animals in the woods at all, and whenever one did happen upon their group, it was always rabid.

And Mikasa didn’t know how much longer she could go on without fresh blood.

She felt someone watching her and turned, expecting to see the Reaper, but instead she saw the half-breed named Clio Jones.

He gave her a nod as he approached and sat down, joining her by the fire. He held his hands out toward the flames, warming them. “You’re not cold?” He asked.

“I don’t experience temperature the way humans do.”

“Huh.” He leaned forward on his elbows, keeping his hands extended for warmth. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before, almost swallowed by the crackling fire. “Sasha told me that you saved her and Connie that night in the cave,” he said. “Did you?”

Mikasa let the silence drag out for a while before answering. “I did,” she finally answered.

Clio turned slightly to look at her. “Thank you.”

Mikasa tensed, assuming – just as she had when the pregnant woman had thanked her – that his sudden gratitude was some kind of trick, but in his human eye she saw only sincerity.

He must have sensed her unease. “I mean it,” he went on. “Sasha is a good person. I’m glad you were there to protect her.”

Mikasa frowned. For the life of her, she could not understand Clio Jones. “Why do you care about them?” She asked. “About any of them? They treat you like a pariah and hate you almost as much as they hate me. Why are you loyal to them?”

“They don’t hate _us,_ ” he answered simply. “They hate the idea of us. They hate what we stand for.”

Mikasa’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Clio turned to her, his hazel eye strangely luminous in the firelight. “Think about it, Mikasa. We’re the monsters they were frightened of when they were children, the killers that murdered their friends and family members. Vampires and titans are a threat to their lives and the reason that humankind has had to live behind walls for five years. Can you honestly blame them for being scared of us—for hating us when they’ve practically been conditioned to?”

Mikasa chose to let his question remain rhetorical, but she found it difficult to disagree with his logic. After all, didn’t her people have a similar view of humans—an almost inherent hatred?

“And yet not all of them do,” Clio continued, interrupting her musing. “People like Sasha and Connie see past outward appearances. They don’t judge us the way others do.” He leaned back on the log. “Just as I don’t judge you simply because you are a vampire, Mikasa. I judge you by your actions.” He paused. “And by your restraint.”

“I only restrain myself because the Reaper has my heart,” Mikasa said coldly, hoping to end the conversation. She had no intention of admitting that her hatred for the humans wasn’t as all-encompassing as it had been less than a week ago.

But Clio Jones saw right through her. “Say what you want, but that's not the only reason,” he argued, black eye fixed on her. “I don’t need blood to survive but I still desire it, and my hunger has been hard to ignore these past few days. But you—you _need_ blood. I can’t even imagine how hungry you are. And yet you’ve never once fed on any of them, never even asked. If you didn’t care at all, you would have found an opportunity to slake your thirst.”

Mikasa shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not that hungry,” she lied.

Again, Clio saw through her so quickly she might as well have been transparent. “Nice try,” he said. “Tell me: when was the last time you fed?”

Her throat tightened, but this time she chose not to lie. “Three weeks.”

The hybrid’s mouth fell open. “Three weeks…?” He echoed, a look of consternation settling in his human features. “Does Captain Levi know?” He asked.

Mikasa felt her fangs stir at the mere mention of the Reaper. “It’s none of his business,” she answered sharply.

“Mikasa, you have to tell him,” he pressed. “I know he doesn’t have a very high opinion of either of us, but if he knew you were starving, he would—”

“He would do nothing.” Mikasa turned to him, the fire bringing out the anger in her dark eyes. “Even if he didn’t hate me, which he does, what would he do? He’s not just going to let me bite someone, and there are no animals that are safe to feed on.”

Clio’s look of concern deepened. “What do you mean, ‘there are no animals that are safe to feed on’?”

“They’re all rabid,” she said with disgust. “Every single animal that we’ve come across since the first day of this miserable journey has been infected by titans.”

The hybrid stared at her, shocked. " _All_ of them?"

Mikasa nodded and Clio exhaled slowly, murmuring something that sounded like _sabotage_ under his breath, but he said it so quickly and quietly that she couldn’t be sure of it.

And she never got the chance to ask, because at that moment the Reaper came sprinting towards them from the dark trees. "Put the fire out," he called, voice tense and urgent.

Clio stood and stamped out the remaining flames, plunging the clearing into darkness. "What's going on?" He asked.

"Titans." The Reaper pointed back the way he'd come. "There are at least two groups of them heading this way from the east, and another group heading up from the river. They'll reach us within the hour."

"Closing in like an ambush," Clio said, and Mikasa saw a significant look pass between him and the Reaper. She frowned. "You both know something, don't you?" She accused, voicing her sudden suspicion. "Something you're hiding from everyone else."

The Reaper gave her a dark look. "It doesn't matter right now. Just focus on the titans. When they get here, we'll be in for a fight." He lowered his voice, and Mikasa saw that same knowing look pass between him and the hybrid once more. "We have to kill all of them. Every single one. Understood?"

Clio brushed his fingers over the hilt of his katana. "That won't be a problem."

"Good." The Reaper turned to her. "Will you be able to handle this, or do I have to worry about a repeat of what happened with the wolves?"

Mikasa swallowed. "I won't lose control."

He weighed her words for a long moment, his piercing eyes unreadable as they held her gaze. "Okay," he said at length, but Mikasa couldn't tell whether or not he actually believed her.

She was even less sure whether or not she believed herself.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a sad note: this chapter kicked my ass, repeatedly, and for no bloody good reason. Hopefully it's not the shambles it was in my head.
> 
> On a happy note: the wait will be a lot shorter for the next update because the 5th chapter is _not_ kicking my ass; the pieces are coming together pretty easily. (Probably due to the fact that I've been itching to write it for weeks because of...reasons... *smiles slyly*)


	5. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry for the delay—I've been so busy between my work schedule and my gig schedule that I haven't had much time to write/edit. That being said, I will continue to update this story...albeit not as frequently as I would like to.  
> Anyway, thanks for your patience, and happy reading!

_Loyalty and love may prove false, but blood always runs red._

\- Ancient vampire proverb

**

 

She was still wearing her lab coat.

It was the first thing he noticed, even though there were many other details more worthy of his attention—the pallor of her skin, the weak pulse at the base of her throat, the fact that her omnipresent goggles were missing, the purple bruise forming just below her elbow where her right sleeve had been pushed up, the angry lump on her temple that was evidence of how hard she’d smacked into the side of her desk when she’d passed out.

But it was the coat he noticed first, because the buttons were fastened properly.

She _never_ fastened them properly, and somehow, that small detail was more confounding than anything else.

“Dr. Arlert?” The lab assistant’s voice was timid, unsure. “Do you want a moment alone with her?”

Armin turned away from the occupied hospital bed and smoothed his frown away with a small smile. “It’s very kind of you to ask, Jenna, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather hear you go over what happened one more time.”

The doe-eyed girl tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear and looked at her feet. “Well, like I told you, Dr. Arlert, I—I wasn’t there the whole time, so I’m not sure…”

“I know you didn’t see everything,” Armin cut in, trying to reassure her, "and I don't mean to put you on the spot." Jenna had a persistent habit of doubting herself - even when she knew what she was talking about and had no reason to - so he knew it would take a little encouragement to make her open up about this. “But Jenna, you are the only eyewitness I have and every detail is important. Please just go over everything you can remember one more time. For me.”

“O-okay then,” she stammered. She took a deep breath. “We were working in the lab, and Dr. Zoe sent me to collect the samples she’d left behind in her quarters. She was scribbling some new formula down at her desk when I left. When I got back…” Her lip quivered. “When I got back, she was just standing there, shaking. I saw the syringe on her desk and I called out to her. She turned around like she was going to answer me and then she—she fell. Straight into the edge of her desk.” Jenna’s brows furrowed with remembered shock. “It was terrible, Dr. Arlert,” she breathed. “I thought she was…”

“But she’s not,” Armin soothed. _Not yet._ Hanji Zoe was alive, and also seemingly unaffected by whatever she'd been injected with, though Armin knew it was possible that the symptoms merely had yet to manifest. He tamped down the unease that accompanied that thought and once more probed the lab assistant for information. “Did you see anyone else at any point—maybe someone visiting the lab, someone walking by in the halls…?”

Jenna blinked at him, confusion swirling in her large eyes. “No,” she answered. “No one.” The confusion in her eyes faded, replaced by sudden distress. She gasped. “Why?” She asked. “Do you think someone did this to her?”

Armin shook his head. “I don’t know.” He was careful to hide his own suspicions. “What do you think, Jenna?”

“Me?” The girl blushed and started to tug self-consciously at the sleeve of her shirt. “Well, Dr. Zoe was always going on about testing her vaccines on uninfected subjects. I even heard her muttering about injecting herself once or twice while we were in the lab together. I always thought she was joking, but maybe…maybe she wasn’t.”

Armin nodded, processing. “Thank you, Jenna. I think I would like a moment alone with her now, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” The lab assistant scurried to the door, over-eager as always, and, Armin suspected, relieved that he was done questioning her. “Just let me know if you need anything else, Dr. Arlert.”

He gave her a parting smile and waited until the door closed behind her before turning back to the prone form of Hanji Zoe.

It was the quietest he’d ever seen her, and definitely the most inert. Even when she slept, she tossed and turned and spoke in her sleep—something Armin knew firsthand from working long hours beside her in their shared lab. Hanji was easily the most exuberant person in all of Rose. She was always busy, always active, always vibrant. Her work was more than just her passion; it was her life – her obsession – and according to some, the source of her insanity. Most people would jump to the same conclusion that Jenna had: that in her eagerness to find a cure, the genius yet crazed Dr. Zoe had decided to test one of her vaccinations on herself.

Which was precisely why Armin didn’t believe it. It was too convenient.

And her lab coat was buttoned _properly._

There was some puzzle here, some other explanation. He was sure of it.

He studied her again, eyes scanning over her from head to foot, searching for some other detail that would give away the truth of what had happened to her in the lab.

Aside from the coat, the only thing that gave him pause was the bruise on her arm. He bent his head, taking a closer look.

_It’s worse than it should be._

While it was true that using needles could result in blood bruises beneath the skin, they almost always occurred when the needle was improperly inserted and missed the vein—something that Hanji never would have done.

Armin straightened, perplexed. _The coat and the needle. The coat and the needle. The coat and the needle._

The answer was there, somewhere, he was certain of it, but for now the two oddities were nothing more than potential clues. He would need much more to go on in order to piece together what had happened.

Sighing, Armin gently raised Hanji’s head and fluffed her pillows, idly musing that this was probably the most time her head had spent on a pillow in her entire life.

Once he was certain that she would be as comfortable as possible, he let the nurse in the other room know he was leaving and instructed her to lock the door and notify him if there was any activity. After making her promise not to open the door for any reason unless he gave his explicit word, Armin headed for the lab, hoping that he would find the answers that eluded him there.

But once he got there, he found only more questions.

There was no sign of a struggle, and all the details were just as Jenna had described. The used syringe was lying discarded on the desk next to a half-drawn chemical sequence (one that yielded no great revelation when Armin made a brief study of it), and the vials, flasks, and notes were all as Hanji had left them. Even the captured titan subject was sitting quietly in its reinforced cage, watching him with its flat, dead eyes.

Armin had never wished more keenly that titans were capable of speech than at that moment.

Suddenly, the lab door burst open and Armin heard the distinct sound of Jenna’s heels clacking on the floor as she hurried towards him.

He turned, ready to tell her that he wanted the lab cleared of all personnel until he said otherwise, but the look on her face silenced him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, slightly breathless. “I checked at medical first but you weren’t there.” Her face crumpled. “Oh, it’s terrible, so terrible…”

Armin felt a knot of dread settle in his stomach. Despite how affected the girl had been by what had happened to her boss, Armin could tell that she was even more upset now, which meant that something awful must have happened. Something worse. “Jenna, what’s terrible?" He asked. "What’s going on?”

“There was a raven,” she said, tears swimming in her eyes. “From Maria.” She could barely get the words out. “They’re dead, Dr. Arlert. They’re all dead.”

 

**

It was dark and stifling in the cramped bunker, and Connie’s hand was slick with sweat around the hilt of the short broadsword he was holding, his perspiration soaking through the old leather grip.

 _Just breathe,_ he coached himself. _Just inhale and exhale and don’t think about titans._

Sasha reached for his free hand, gripping it tightly, her fingers nearly as soaked with sweat as his.

_Just breathe. The hunters will protect us. We’re safe here. Just breathe._

There was a loud, gut-twisting crash.

Someone screamed. “It got in! One of them got in!”

Before Connie could process what was happening, he was shoved roughly forward as the crowd of people began pushing towards the bunker door. He tried to hold onto Sasha, but their hands were as slippery as butter and she was wrenched away.

“Sasha!” He yelled, but his voice was one in a din of many and he had no way of knowing if she'd heard him over the cacophony of screams.

The crowd burst through the door and Connie was pulled along with them, the mass of bodies propelling him outside. He briefly felt cool air on his face and then he tasted dirt as he stumbled and fell to the ground, the short sword skittering out in front of him.

Coughing, he sat up, head and ears ringing, watching as people ran and scattered all around him, some of them so delirious with fear that they fled right into the group of titans that the hunters were fighting off. He searched desperately for Sasha amidst the chaos, a swinging ponytail catching his eye some thirty feet away from him, but it wasn’t Sasha, just a girl who wore her hair the same way.

He was about to keep looking when he saw the titan. It was bowed over, almost like a hunchback, and it had the longest claws Connie had ever seen. It was headed for the Sasha look-alike.

Connie screeched in warning, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting for her to turn around, but he didn’t know the girl’s name and she was much too panicked to hear him. The titan reached her, and Connie watched in horror as it sliced her clean in half in one easy motion, its talons moving through her like she was as soft as a piece of overripe fruit. Her awful scream of pain was abruptly cut off as she was cleaved in two, her blood spraying into the air around her like a red mist as the twitching parts of her crumpled to the ground. The titan tilted its head up into the haze of blood like it was a warm spring rain, maw open and teeth bared, and let out a glottal sound that reminded Connie of wheezing laughter.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Connie reached out and retrieved his sword, fighting back the urge to vomit.

_It could have been Sasha. It could have been Sasha, and I sat here and did nothing._

“Get up, Springer,” he ordered himself, speaking through clenched teeth. _Find Sasha._

He stood on wobbly legs, holding his weapon out awkwardly in front of him, wondering how he was going to find her.

He didn’t wonder for long. As if on cue, he heard a high-pitched, desperate, _“Connie!”_ from back inside of the bunker.

He whirled on the spot, darting inside without a second thought.

And balked in fear the minute he crossed the threshold.

There was a titan in the bunker - a big one, at least a foot taller than him - and it had Sasha pinned against the far wall. She was shaking like a leaf and clutching a wooden spear, the long flint tip wobbling in front of her as she held it in her trembling arms.

The large titan turned around as Connie took a step forward, staring at him with its flat black eyes. And yet, somewhere in its void orbs, Connie thought he could detect a twinkle of amusement.

As if it were enjoying itself.

A floorboard squeaked.

Sasha screamed. “Connie, behind you!”

He didn’t want to look. He wanted to pretend that it wasn’t real, that whatever was behind him now was like the imaginary monsters he’d hidden from under the covers when he was four—always lurking on the fringes of his father’s stories and his own bad dreams but never able to hurt him.

But even when it had been those fanciful, intangible monsters, Connie had always peeked, the inexorable need to know that nothing was there overriding the instinct to hide, and that same need kicked in now.

He looked. And there was indeed something there, a monster that could and would hurt him.

It was the hunchbacked titan, and it was blocking the door.

Connie swallowed and held up his sword, turning sideways so that both titans were in his line of sight. _Fuck,_ he thought, _fuck. There's no way out.  
_

The titans paid little attention to each other but they moved as a unit, leaving Sasha where she was and converging on Connie, moving slowly towards him like they were building a sense of suspense, priming the stage for the kill.

And Connie stood there, frozen like a deer caught in a hunter's crosshairs, knowing that he was as good as dead. “Run, Sasha,” he whispered.

She didn’t. Instead, with a fierce cry, Sasha lunged, thrusting her spear into the titan closest to her.

The creature howled and arched away from the sting of the blade, then turned with the tip of the spear still embedded in its back, its sudden motion ripping the handle from Sasha’s grasp.

It raised one clawed hand above its head.

“No!” Connie shrieked.

Sasha jumped out of the way - not far enough - and the ends of the creature’s talons sliced into her skin. Three stripes of red began to bleed through her shirt, and Sasha fell to the floor, clutching at her stomach and wailing.

It was the sound of her crying that finally propelled Connie into action.

He lunged forward, blindly hacking at the hunchbacked titan with his sword, desperate to land a blow.

He might as well have been trying to catch a mouse while blindfolded for all the good his anger did him. No matter how fast his sword cut through the air, it never even came close to hitting the titan. And instead of being threatened, the creature seemed to be getting more and more amused by Connie's attempts to wound it, its humanoid features leering in a widening grin.

And then it reached out and grabbed the blade, yanking it from Connie’s grasp and hurling it across the room.

Connie stumbled back as it flexed its claws, trying to come up with another idea.

But there was nothing he could do. Nothing. The other titan was standing over Sasha, preparing to strike at her again, and Connie couldn’t get there, couldn’t do anything because the mangled, grinning, bastard of a titan was going to kill him.

“Fuck you!” He screamed at it, angry and afraid and disgusted at how helpless he was. “Fuck you!” He screamed again as a third titan appeared in the doorway of the bunker.

Connie blinked. _Wait…_

It wasn’t a titan.

It was the vampire.

Both titans turned towards her, the change in their demeanor instant and dramatic. They raised their clawed hands, their bodies bristling, and hissed at her.

She hissed back, fangs bared, the dark veins around her darker eyes almost glistening, and for a fleeting second, Connie thought that the titans almost cowered in her presence.

Then they attacked.

The vampire twirled out of range as the hunchbacked titan clawed at her, then shot a hand around its neck as it went for her throat. She squeezed her clawed fingers, breaking skin as she choked it out, using its body like a shield to deflect blows from the larger titan.

Connie took advantage of their momentary distraction, darting over to Sasha. He slid one arm around her shoulders and hauled her onto her feet.

“Can you walk?”

She nodded, face pale, hands still clutching at her bleeding abdomen.

They made for the door, edging around the fighting trio, but luck wasn’t on their side. The titan that had clawed Sasha saw them and stopped in its attempt to attack the vampire, sensing easier prey.

It ran at them, talons extended.

There was a thud as the lifeless body of the hunchbacked titan slammed into the wall, and then the vampire shot up between Connie and Sasha and the remaining titan. She shoved Connie in the chest, pushing him and Sasha out of the way, and took the blow meant for them.

The force of the titan's attack knocked her to the floor, and Connie feared that she was dead once he saw the deep lacerations on her back. But the vampire was nothing if not resilient.

Mikasa flipped onto her wounded back, scissored her legs, and used two well placed heel strikes to knock the titan to the ground. Before it could get up, she rolled on top of it and pinned its clawed hands above its head as it thrashed and screeched below her.

Then she leaned down and ripped its throat out with her teeth.

It twitched once and lay still, and the vampire collapsed to the side, blood dripping from her chin, fangs, and the ends of her black hair. She spat out a mouthful of blood and shuddered, though Connie couldn't tell if it was from disgust or pain.

“Are both of you all right?” Her voice was strained.

Connie nodded, arms still wrapped around Sasha. “I think so.”

“ _I_ am, but I…I don’t know if…” Sasha’s voice broke off into a whimper, her hands once again clutching at her stomach.

The vampire looked up at her. “You’re both okay, Sasha,” she said, and Connie frowned. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Like I said, I think we’re okay.” He looked down at the vampire, a new thought occurring to him. “Are _you_ okay?” He asked.

She wouldn't meet his gaze. “Fine.”

Sasha stepped forward, eyes shining with tears. “You saved us again, Mikasa.” She reached out a hand. “But you’re not fine. Let us help you.”

The vampire didn’t reach for the proffered hand. Instead, she clutched at the ground. “You can’t,” she said. Her gaze latched on to the blood covering Sasha’s stomach. She trembled. “You need to leave.”

Connie recognized the look in the vampire’s eyes. He’d seen it all too many times in Sasha’s eyes when food rations were short in Maria.

It tugged on his sympathy. He gently pulled Sasha away from Mikasa and crouched down beside the vampire. “Do you need…blood?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Mikasa stilled. “It’s none of your concern.”

Connie ignored her. “Maybe, but like Sasha said, you saved us—again. If you need blood, I’m okay with you taking some from me.” He tried hard to put on a brave front. “Honestly. I don’t mind. I’m giving you permission.”

Mikasa leaned forward, lips parting, black eyes fixed on the hammering pulse at the base of his throat, looking every bit the ruthless predator that members of her race were infamous for being.

But then she shook her head violently, fighting her instincts, and before he or Sasha could stop her, she stood on badly shaking legs and fled the bunker without so much as a backward glance.

 

**

Levi wiped the grime from his face, inwardly cringing. He was covered in gore, titan blood and bits clinging to his skin and clothing, and he doubted the smell and feel of it could be washed away even by a thorough scrubbing in the river. The stink of death and rot came off of steel well enough, but people were another matter entirely. Still, the river would be his first stop after he ascertained just how badly they’d been hit by this latest wave of titan attackers.

Ignoring the filth for the moment, he headed back towards the bunker.

He, Jones, and the vampire had taken the brunt of the onslaught, cutting down most of the titans before they had a chance to reach the civilians and the bunker, but a few of them had gotten through, and the evidence of that fact was everywhere.

Most of the people were huddled in small groups, and Levi could see that a fair number of them were sporting slashes and bites. He could also see one or two mangled bodies of those that had been even less lucky.

 _I’m sorry,_ he said silently as he passed the corpse of a young girl. _I’m sorry._

Feeling numb inside, he forced himself to look away. Kenny had always said that pitying the dead was an asinine pastime, something that mopey bastards did when they wanted to feel sorry for themselves. _Dead is dead,_ he'd said more than once, _an' pity don't revive shit. Bury the dead, bury your grief, and move the fuck on._

Levi didn't subscribe to that belief, but he did think - at least for the moment, while each passing day was proving to be more of a shit show than the one before - that Kenny's philosophy might be worth temporarily adopting. There was nothing he could do for the dead; better that he focus on the living...no matter how much of a shrinking percentage of people that proved to be.

“Cap!”

The recognizable timbre of Ymir's voice caught his attention, and he waited as she hurried in his direction, compulsively checking her for signs of injury. She had a few scratches on her face and arms but looked otherwise unharmed.

“Are they all dead?” She asked when she reached him.

Levi nodded. “How many did we lose?” The words already sounded too familiar on his tongue.

“Three. Same as last time.”

Three more people, dead. At this rate, only ghosts would reach Rose’s gates.

“Wounded?”

“About half. They were safe until one of the titans got past me and Jean and got into the bunker. Then the civilians all came running out and…” Her lips twisted unhappily. “Most of them forgot to even use the weapons we gave them, and Jean and I couldn’t keep track of them all. I’m sorry, Cap.”

“Not your fault.”

“But—”

“No.” Levi had seen too many soldiers crushed beneath the weight of self-blame in his lifetime to let his subordinate suffer the same fate. The last thing he wanted was for her or Jean to lose their will to fight because they felt they weren’t good enough. _They_ were good enough. It was just that the enemy, so far, was maintaining a distinct upper hand.

“Listen to me,” he ordered. “Titans are responsible for what happened here. Not you. If you and Jean hadn’t held a second front, many more of these people would be dead.”

Ymir looked far from convinced, but she gave him a nod anyway. “If you say so.”

“I do.” He exhaled, getting back on track. “We’ll bury the dead, but first we need to debrief. Where are the others?”

Ymir pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “The Mutt is with Braus and Springer over by the bunker, and Jean is helping Petra with something. I haven’t seen the vampire.”

Levi didn't miss the way her tone darkened over the last statement. He would have to talk to her about pocketing her hostility for the vampire until they reached Rose, but now was not the time. “All right," he said. "Go get Jean and meet me on the west side of the bunker.” It was farthest away from where everyone had more or less congregated, which meant that it would be the safest place to talk without having their conversation overheard. “And bring Petra,” he added, already walking away.

He spotted Jones exactly where Ymir said he'd be, kneeling beside a girl who was propped up against the outer shell of the bunker. Unlike everyone else, the hybrid was completely unscathed and mostly clean. So clean, in fact, that it looked like he hadn’t seen any battle at all, even though Levi had seen him facing down his fair number of titans.

Not that 'facing down' really described what it was like to watch him fight. Jones had made killing look like an art form, shredding the once-hunters into ribbons with graceful, fluid strikes of his katana. It had been impressive to see him in action.

It would have been more impressive, however, if Levi had been able to tell which part of the hybrid had been in control during the fight—his human side, or his titan side. The ambivalence certainly hadn’t made Levi like him any better, but he couldn’t deny that - regardless of what else he might be - Clio Jones was an exceptional swordsman.

For the moment, at least, it seemed that Jones' human side was in control. He was talking softly to the girl as he bandaged her abdomen, and he stood as Levi reached him, no sinister gleam in his empty black eye and only mild curiosity in his human one.

He didn't ask any questions, so Levi cut to the chase. “We need to debrief,” he said. “And fill the others in.”

Jones nodded in understanding. “When and where?”

“Now, other side of the bunker.” Levi scanned the immediate vicinity. “Have you seen the vampire?”

“No, but they have.” The hybrid motioned to the two civilians huddled together on the ground.

Levi looked down. Springer and Braus, if he remembered correctly.

He addressed the girl first. "Are you Springer or Braus?"

"Braus, sir. Sasha."

Levi nodded, eyeing the mess of blood on her shirt. "How badly are you hurt?"

Sasha blinked up at him dumbly, as if she were surprised that he would ask. "Not too badly. Clio says the slashes are mostly superficial."

"Good." He glanced between her and the boy. "Do either of you know where the vampire is?"

"No," Sasha answered. “She ran away.”

Levi felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. “What?” Surely she wouldn’t have made a break for it. He still had her heart. There was no way she would leave without it.

Would she?

“I think I freaked her out,” the kid named Springer said.

 _I highly doubt that,_ Levi thought. Springer looked incapable of scaring a kitten, let alone a vampire. He pushed the thought aside and ignored the kid's ridiculous suggestion. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, Sasha and I were in the bunker and Mikasa saved us from these two titans, but she got hurt in the process. She pushed us out of the way and one of them slashed her back open pretty badly. I offered her some blood and then she bolted.”

It took Levi a full second to realize that _Mikasa_ must be the vampire’s name. He wondered how Springer knew it. “So you gave her your blood and then she just ran off?”

Sasha shook her head. “No. Er, I mean _no_ , Captain Levi, sir.” She hugged her arms around herself. “Connie offered her his blood but she didn’t take it. She looked like she wanted to, but then she stopped herself. And then she ran away.”

Levi frowned, glancing up at Jones for some kind of an explanation, but the hybrid shook his head. “Don’t ask me,” he said. “I wasn’t there. Though I can tell you that Mikasa hasn’t fed in a long time.” There was a deeper meaning to his words that Levi didn't miss.

He thought back to the incident with the wolves, remembering how close she’d come to drinking the infected blood.

It rallied him. “I’m going to go look for her. Start the debriefing without me.”

He didn’t wait to see if Jones would object to that, he simply turned and headed towards the woods, filled with a sense of urgency.

Finding the vampire was the top priority, no doubt about it. Her running away was one thing, but if she'd lost control and gone feral, they were going to have a much bigger problem on their hands than titans.

 

**

The trees blurred by her as she ran, every stride taking her deeper into the endless forest. Feeling surrounded by woods was usually comforting, but now Mikasa felt like the forest was pressing in on her, clutching her in its sylvan arms, its grip tightening with asphyxiating cruelty no matter how fast or far she ran. But even the sudden claustrophobia couldn't dull the brutal edge of her need. It was burning through her like acid, eating through her veins and consuming all rational thought.

_Trapped._

The word hit her with such force that she collapsed to her knees against an ancient, gnarled tree, gasping and shaking.

_I'm starving and trapped and helpless to do anything about it._

Frustrated to the point of agony, she pounded her fist into the sturdy trunk. The centuries-old wood splintered around her hand instantly, yielding to her aggression with all the strength of a sapling.

Breathing hard, Mikasa pulled her hand free, instantly aware of the few drops of blood running from her split knuckles. The rich color of it seduced her, teased her to the point of torture. She _needed_ it, desperately, and yet need was too soft a word. It didn’t encompass the starvation that clawed at her insides, ripping into her empty stomach cavity and shredding her to bits. It didn’t express the blinding torment she felt as she lowered her lips to her own shaking hand and licked one ruby drop from her finger, shuddering at the nauseatingly metallic taste of herself.

 _Pull yourself together,_ she willed herself. _You’re better than this. You have to be._

Utterly drained, Mikasa slumped back against the tree, raking her hands so harshly through her hair that her nails bit into her scalp. If only she had given in to the boy’s foolish offer—the stupid, kind, _blood-_ filled boy. If only.

But she would have killed him. And she didn’t want to, not anymore. Being around these humans was…complicated.

It was much easier to hate people you’d never talked to, much easier – as Clio had said – to hate the _idea_ of people than to hate the individuals.

Mikasa squeezed her eyes shut as another severe hunger pang ripped through her stomach, clenching her hands into the dirt by her sides. If she could just breathe through it, just hold on until—

“Finally. I was beginning to think I'd have to trek all the way back to Maria to find you.”

Her eyes flew open. _No, no, no, not him. Anyone but him._ “Get away from me, Reaper.”

He scowled down at her, hands akimbo. “So I guess you’re not rabid, then,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

She glared at him. “Good guess.”

“Hmph.” He snorted. “So why the hell did you run off? Did you what—forget that I still have your heart? Other than pissing me off, what were you hoping to accomplish? Enlighten me.”

“Nothing,” Mikasa deadpanned. “Pissing you off was my sole motivation.” Ignoring the shake in her legs, she stood, unwilling to let him see how weak she was. She had to hold onto the tree for balance, but at least this way she was able to stare down at him instead of up at him. “I was tired of you and your humans, so I took a walk. The fact that I inconvenienced you is just an added bonus.”

He assessed her with hard eyes. “So that’s it, huh?” The way he said it made it clear he didn’t believe her.

Still, she clung to her lie. “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not—”

“Fine. Then turn around.”

“Excuse me?” Her awareness flew to the painful wounds on her back.

“I heard you got slashed up. I want to see how bad it is.”

Mikasa instantly went on the defensive. “Why?” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you get some sick sense of pleasure from seeing a vampire’s pain?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He crossed his arms. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is utter shit, so I want you to prove just how indifferent you are. Show me your back.”

Mikasa pressed her lips together in irritation. He’d caught her, she knew; if she didn’t show him her back, he would know she was lying, and if she did… well, the evidence would be damning.

But she didn't really have a choice. “Fine,” she muttered, capitulating. She turned around, reluctantly facing the tree and putting her back on display.

His sharp, surprised intake of breath was almost worth the humiliation she felt at being outmaneuvered.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Those are deep.” For once there was no cynical edge to his voice, no trace of disdain. “How the hell are you even still conscious?”

Mikasa turned to face him, raising her chin defiantly in spite of how close to falling out of consciousness she truly was. “Because I’m stronger than you think and my wounds don’t feel as bad as I suppose they look.”

He stared at her. “Like hell,” he snapped. “Cut the bullshit and be straight with me, vampire. You look like you’re ready to drop into your own grave, and your back isn’t healing even though I’ve fought enough of you to know that your wounds usually heal within minutes. What is going on?”

_I’m starving, that’s what’s going on._

She tried not to stare at his pulse. “Only _healthy_ vampires heal quickly,” she said, the words bitter on her tongue. She glared at him. “You’re not a complete idiot, Reaper,” she snapped. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

He was silent for a long moment. “You’re hungry,” he finally murmured.

“ _Yes._ ” The word was a hiss of admission.

“But you didn’t bite Springer.” He frowned, cocking his head to the side as he appraised her. “First you saved him, and then you refused the blood he offered you. Why?”

Oh, to be reminded of how close she’d been to quenching her thirst. Mikasa closed her eyes against the memory.

The Reaper continued when she gave no reply. “I’m not saying that the entire notion of it doesn’t disgust me, because it does, but I would not have retaliated if you had taken what he willingly offered.”

She raised her eyes at that, her surprise only dulled by the sharper hunger she felt. “I…I couldn’t,” she said.

Finally, a hint of curiosity flared in his steel eyes. “Why not?”

Her eyes flashed. “Because,” she said in a lower voice, “I would’ve killed him.”

She saw the instant hatred crease his brow, saw his fingers inch towards the machete hitched to his belt.

She held up her hands defensively. “Not intentionally,” she said. She frowned, searching for a way to explain. “When I feed – especially if it’s been too long since the last time – I can’t control the bloodlust. Once I start drinking, I won’t stop.” She exhaled. “I’m _starving_ ,” she admitted, glancing up at him before dropping her gaze. His unwavering eyes unnerved her. “Imagine going a week without water, wandering around an arid desert with your tongue sticking dryly to the roof of your mouth, all the while passing by oases you aren’t allowed to stop and drink from. And then, when you’re finally permitted to drink, all you want is to drown in it and instead you're only able to take a few shallow sips.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “ _That's_ how this feels." Or it was at least the closest she could come to explaining it to him. "So the only way I’d be able to feed from a human without killing them is if they were strong enough to push me off. Connie isn’t strong enough. I would drain him.”

The Reaper’s hand fell away from his weapon. “And you don’t want to do that, do you?” His brow was heavily furrowed, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was telling him. “You care about him,” he ventured, voice carefully inflectionless. "About all of them."

“ _Some_ of them,” she corrected, giving him a pointed look.

“Tch. Trust me, vampire, the sentiment’s mutual,” he answered evenly. “But no matter our personal feelings, you’ve proven that you’ll risk yourself to protect these people, so I’m not going to let you starve. Despite what you think, I don’t try to be unnecessarily cruel." His lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. "Even to vampires.”

Mikasa shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Even if you grant me your _permission—_ ” she uttered the word like the slander it was “—it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t risk feeding on anyone. No one here is strong enough to stop me.”

Her statement hung in the air like a challenge even though she hadn’t meant for it be taken as one, filling the space between them with building tension.

Tension that the Reaper stoked even further with two sharp, inescapable words.

“I am.”

Mikasa gaped at him, speechless.

“I’m strong enough.”

Her throat constricted. He couldn’t possibly mean what he was implying. For a Reaper to offer… Her eyes flickered again to his pulse and she dragged in a ragged breath. “You—you don’t know what you’re saying.”

He stepped forward, invading her personal space and ratcheting the tension around them up another suffocating notch.

“Yes, I do,” he said, eyes burning into hers. “You’re strong, but you’re fraying at the seams. It’s obvious you can’t keep going on this way. You need blood, I need you alive, and I’m strong enough to fight you off if it comes to that. The solution to this problem seems pretty damn simple.”

Her fangs descended involuntarily, responding to his offer even as her last shred of pride had her clutching at the tree behind her. She wrestled with the urge to squirm and imbued her voice with a murderous edge. “What makes you think I won’t just kill you and steal back my heart, Reaper?”

He wasn’t the least bit phased by the threat in her suggestion. “Because you don’t know where I’m keeping it and because you just admitted to caring about these people,” he replied smoothly. “Killing me would make it much harder to keep them alive, so you won’t do it.” He shrugged. “Besides, we have a deal, remember?”

Mikasa nodded slowly. She wasn’t likely to forget _that_ arrangement. Still…

“You’re a Reaper.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m a vampire. We’re enemies.” She met his gaze. “Even if you are as sure as you claim to be that I won’t kill you, why would you – someone who is specifically trained to kill my kind – ever offer me your own blood?” Did he think he could somehow manipulate her? Control her? Demean her further than he already had? Everything she could think of pointed to some sinister intent.

And yet his answer was shockingly simple. “Your back,” he said. “I’ve had my share of wounds—enough to know that those slashes are deep. You risked your life to save Springer and Braus. You didn’t have to, but you did.” His piercing eyes were strangely guileless, more honest than she’d ever seen them. “I’m not saying I understand _why_ , but knowing that you did is enough. I owe you.”

Mikasa could have laughed. A Reaper, indebted to a vampire? It was unheard of. "What you're suggesting is absurd."

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Name one.”

There was a long pause. “There’s a first time for everything,” he conceded.

He was standing so close to her that she could smell him—the repugnant scent of titan blood, the woodsy smell of the forest, and beneath that, the humming, pulsing richness of his own blood. She closed her eyes, her body shaking with want.

“Oi.”

Her eyes snapped open, gaze riveted to his.

“Drop the martyr act and fucking drink from me before I force feed you my blood.”

Mikasa was used to his condescending tone and tactless vulgarity, but the fact that he was speaking so flippantly about something he didn't understand riled her with an anger she didn't usually give in to. _How dare you?_ She wanted to scream at him. _How dare you mock_ _me when you have no idea what it's like to crave blood the way I do?_

With an enraged growl, she grabbed him by the collar and spun him around, reversing their positions and pressing him into the tree. “Fine,” she said, the veins darkening around her eyes until her porcelain skin was weeping black. She drew her lips back, exposing the full length of her fangs. “I hope you’re as strong as you think, Reaper,” she hissed.

He glared at her. “I am.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She leaned towards him, eyes on his jugular as her hands pulled down the collar of his shirt and bared the fragile skin of his throat to her gaze. Her mouth watered at the sight. “Blood never lies.”

His pulse was strong and steady, but she felt it jump when she finally closed the last few inches between them and pressed her cool lips against his skin. It was the only direct contact they had; her hands were still fisted in his shirt and his were clutched at his sides, and despite the proximity of their bodies, they were leaning away from each other as much as possible, their mutual aversion at being so physically close emanating from both of them.

If Mikasa hadn’t been nearly mad with starvation, she would have jerked back and bolted.

But she was so very, _excruciatingly_ hungry, and the second she grazed her fangs against his skin, she lost her will to resist.

Instinct took over.

Biting down with more force than necessary, she sank her fangs into his neck, piercing him deeply in one swift motion that drew a harsh curse of pain from his lips. Instantly, blood poured from the puncture wounds, warm and rich and strong, and Mikasa took her first mouthful of blood in weeks.

And it was like nothing she had ever experienced.

The Reaper's blood wasn't just good, it was _sublime_ —a potent, heady ambrosia that filled her with more than mere sustenance. She could feel his strength, could taste his resilience and determination like it was imbued into the very cells of his blood, and she swallowed the mouthful voraciously, nearly keening at how satisfying it was. Greedily, she sucked more blood from the wound, coating her tongue with it, letting it pour down her throat, reveling in the way it warmed her body and rippled through her aching veins. Restraint frayed and reason faded until only the desire to quench her thirst remained. She pressed herself against him, using her muscular frame to pin him to the tree, forgetting that he was her mortal enemy and that she should be keeping her distance instead of practically molding her body onto his. All she could focus on was the intoxicating taste of his blood and the need to drink _more_ of it, to drink until she was sated.

Dimly, she was aware of the Reaper’s hands on her – one on her throat and the other pressing against her chest, pressing her away – and the sound of his voice, a muted whisper that seemed to be coming from miles away telling her _enough...enough..._

She ignored it all and drank.

And drank.

And drank.

She needed to stop, had to, and yet his blood was so good and she was beginning to feel her strength returning. Every drop she sucked from his veins was giving her power and relief and a feeling of utter freedom. It was electricity in her system. Stopping wasn't an option.

But suddenly that electricity turned to liquid fire and she tore herself away from him, crying out as a coil of unexpected, sharp pain shot through her. She fell backwards, landing on the ground, head spinning even as the flare of pain faded, fangs still wet and glistening with blood.

She blinked in confusion. _What did he do to me...?_

“Fuck…”

The weak, pained curse grabbed her attention and she sat up, staring at the Reaper.

His back was still against the tree but he had slid down to the ground, his legs sprawled out in front of him, one hand clutching at his bleeding throat, the other holding the center of a double-bladed boomerang. His eyes were closed, but even so Mikasa could tell he was hurting badly. He was panting slightly, breaths shallow and uneven, and his normally pale skin was ashen, the tightly squeezed fringe of his lashes striking a severe contrast to the deathly hue of his cheeks.

Mikasa felt a twinge of guilt, and before she even knew what she was doing, she started to move towards him, fueled by some inherent desire to help any creature that was in pain…even if that creature was a hunter who hated her with every fiber of his being.

But the second she shifted from the spot where she’d fallen, the Reaper’s eyes slid halfway open and he held up the boomerang. “Don’t,” he said, voice little more than a hoarse rasp. “No more.”

Mikasa froze. “That’s not…” She trailed off, realizing what she must look like—crawling towards him with her lips and fangs still stained the color of his blood. Grimacing, she retracted her fangs, shivering slightly as she swallowed the drops that had lingered on their tips. “I’m not going to take any more blood,” she promised, regaining control of herself. She caught her next words before she spoke them, some instinct telling her that it would be better if she framed her intention in the form of a request. “I used to help my grandmother tend to the wounded in my village. I could help you bandage your neck, if you'll let me.”

He stared at her from beneath his half-lowered eyelids for a suspended moment before lowering the boomerang to the ground. He nodded. “Fine. But don’t get any shitty ideas.”

She moved towards him slowly, careful not to make any sudden motions that would make him feel threatened, treating him like she would a wounded animal. When she was close enough to touch him, she tore off the bottom hem of her shirt and held it out, making her intention clear.

Never taking his eyes off of her, the Reaper let his hand fall away from his neck.

Mikasa drew in a sharp breath. She knew that she'd been rough with him, that her anger and hunger had propelled her to act without care for his well-being, but she hadn't realized just how far she'd crossed the line from feeding to attacking. The puncture wounds she’d left were worse than they had any right to be, deep and raw and already bruising around the edges, the holes gaping from the way she'd carelessly rooted around with her fangs beneath his skin.

They were also still bleeding, and the scent of his blood sent a flicker of want straight to her fangs.

The shame came a moment later. How could she even contemplate taking advantage of him now, when he was weak from all the blood she'd taken, from the blood he'd willingly given? Reaper or not, he had put himself in danger to help her; it would be unforgivable to drain him now, unforgivable to take even one more drop of his blood.

So she kept her mouth stubbornly closed and wound the strip of fabric around his neck, binding it quickly and securely over the wounds and holding her breath as she did so. The Reaper winced as the fabric brushed against his aggravated, broken skin, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. "How's your back?" He asked as she worked.

Mikasa gentled her motions. “Better." In fact, she could already feel the deep slashes scabbing over. Her wounds would be a distant memory long before the marks she'd left on the Reaper healed. The thought gave her pause. "I’m sorry,” she murmured as she finished tying the knot.

He opened his eyes and gave her a flat look. “Don't be.” He tugged his collar up to cover the makeshift bandage as soon as she pulled her hands away. “I gave you permission...nearly harassed you into it. So save your apologies. It clearly worked, and we’re both still alive. No harm done.”

Mikasa rocked back on her heels and stood, brow furrowing. “I took more than I should have.” _Much, much more._

The Reaper holstered his boomerang and pushed himself to his feet, grasping at the tree behind him for support. “Because you were starving,” he stated.

Mikasa hesitated. He wasn’t wrong, but that also wasn’t the full truth. There had been something about _his_ blood that had nearly driven her mad, that had made her want to drink him dry, something she’d never experienced before.

But she wasn’t about to admit that to him, especially when she didn’t even fully understand it herself. So all she said was: “yes.”

He nodded. “You can’t get to that point again. It’s not safe for you or me or anyone else.” His eyes found hers. “Tell me: how often do you need to drink blood to stay in control?”

“It depends—”

“Just give me a fucking straight answer, vampire.”

Mikasa exhaled. “Once a week would be ideal. But like I told Clio, all the animals we’ve come across have been rabid. I can’t feed on them.”

“Then until we figure something else out, you can continue to take my blood when you need it.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. "You would let me drink from you again? Even after the way I hurt you?"

He shrugged. "Pain doesn't last." He bowed his head, enough so that the ends of his bangs covered his eyes. "Nothing lasts in this world," he added. The words were so quiet that it was almost as if he'd thought them loudly instead of spoken them at all.

Before Mikasa could fathom a response, he straightened up and brushed past her, rallying so quickly that it was almost as if she'd imagined his brief vulnerability. "Let's go," he said. "There's a lot to do and we've been gone long enough as it is."

Mikasa watched him for a minute before starting after him, a strange heaviness settling within her.

_Nothing lasts in this world._

It was something he never would have said unless he understood firsthand how tragically true it was. Normal people didn't walk around with that kind of heavy sorrow inside of them, not unless they had lost more than even the cruelest fate had any right to take.

After all, she would know.

For the first time since he'd stolen her heart, Mikasa felt something other than hatred for the Reaper.

She felt pity.

 

**

It took them the better part of an hour to get back to the bunker. It should have taken half the time, but Levi was forced to set a sluggish pace to combat how lightheaded he felt. Every step was a struggle, and each time he tried to walk faster, the dizziness nearly overwhelmed him.

And to make things worse, his neck was fucking _aching_ , all thanks to the damn vampire. She had guzzled him down like he was her personal blood bag, weakening him in a way no one ever had before. Knowing that her fangs had been inside of him was nauseating enough, but the fact that he wasn’t sure whether he would’ve been able to stop her without having her heart so close by made him feel sicker still. He would need to be much more mentally prepared if and when she had to feed from him again.

She was silent the entire way back, which Levi was thankful for, but their lack of conversation also gave him time to worry about what he would find when they got to the bunker. Leaving Ymir and Jean alone with Jones for so long was asking for trouble, and Levi half expected that he would return to find all of them at each other’s throats.

But when he and the vampire finally got there, the scene was nothing like what he had imagined.

Everyone was gathered on the side of the bunker—not just Jean, Ymir, and Jones, but the civilians as well. Jones was the first to notice Levi and the vampire, but as soon as he did, all the rest of them turned and quieted.

“We thought you were dead,” someone eventually said.

 _I almost was,_ Levi thought bleakly, but he kept that to himself. “Obviously not,” he replied smoothly. “The vampire and I were doing a sweep of the forest to make sure that all of the titans were dead.” He was surprised how readily the lie came to him.

“Why do they keep attacking us?” Someone else called out. “And how do they keep finding us?”

Levi looked around at the sea of desperate, haggard faces, finding that he could read the same two questions in each of their harrowed expressions.

_Why? How?_

He almost lied again, almost did what he knew Kenny would have done and concealed how truly dire their situation was in order to prevent widespread panic.

But he hesitated, because beneath their fear and exhaustion, Levi could sense fire in some of them, a will to survive, to fight, to understand. They _wanted_ to know the truth, were hungry for it just like the vampire had been hungry for his blood.

So he gave it to them. “The titans that attacked us in Maria and the titans following us now are intelligent. Either they’ve regained their Legion instincts, evolved, or both. They planned the siege on Maria, and now they are purposefully hunting us down. I don’t know how many of them are out there, but I do know that they aren’t going to stop until all of us or all of them are dead.”

The gravity of his words hung in the air once he finished speaking, and the silence that followed was heavy and somber, and as each weighted second dragged by, Levi began to doubt his decision to confide in them, wondering if telling them the truth had driven them from desperate to despairing.

Until someone piped up and said, “Then let’s make sure it’s them.”

Levi zeroed in on the speaker. It was the loudmouth that had argued with him about the seizuring woman their first day out from Maria. The man stepped forward and gave Levi a sloppy, albeit genuine, attempt at a salute. “If you teach us how to fight them, Captain, we’ll fight them.”

Another man stepped forward. “I second that,” he said as more people stepped away from the crowd and copied his lead.

Levi stared at them, completely taken aback by their reaction, shocked into silence.

“Will you do it, Captain Levi?” A woman asked, voice tremulous with hopefulness. “Will you show us how to beat them?”

He couldn’t. It had taken months to train the uninfected Legion hunters how to combat titans, and here and now they had a fraction of that time and none of the preliminary training. And they had to keep moving. Rations at the bunker would run out in a day or two, and there was no telling how long it would be before another wave of titans came to attack them, which meant that even if he _did_ attempt to train them, the most time he’d have to do so would be no longer than forty-eight hours.

There was no real point and a lot of added risk.

And yet instead of explaining as much, Levi did what he’d done during his years in the Elite Five, the same thing that had gotten him in trouble with the big brass time and again and the same thing that had prevented him from ever being granted an official position of leadership.

He thought: _fuck it_.

“All right,” he said, eyeing the sorry-looking lot in front of him. “Training begins in one hour. Rest and regroup until then, and then be out here lined up and ready to work the skin off your asses. Dismissed.”

His words were met with an overwhelming chorus of people shouting _yes, sir!_ and then Levi watched as, just like an overly enthusiastic group of green Legion recruits, the twenty-four civilians followed his orders without question.

 

 


	6. Sticks and Stones and Scars

_"Focusing on a cure, much like focusing on the continuance of the Scouting Legion, will lead nowhere. It is time to accept the changes to our world and look to the future. The creation of the Military Police is humanity’s way forward. While the Scouting Legion served as an offensive weapon against vampires, the Military Police will function as a defense against all threats to Fortress Sina, including vampires, once-hunters, and threats within the walls. They will be the ultimate hand in justice and protection here, and hopefully soon in Maria and Rose as well. To make this possible, I call for the immediate dissolution of the Scouting Legion. As a show of good faith, however, minimum funding will be provided for you to continue your work as long as it does not interfere with Military Police business."_

\- Quote taken from Commander Darius Zacklay's reply to Dr. Hanji Zoe's appeal to the High Council, dated Year 2 A.T.

**

 

When the first arrow landed in the center of the target, no one really took much notice.

When the second arrow landed beside the first a few seconds later, the effect was slightly different. People turned, paused, and a few even offered brief words of praise.

When the third arrow landed in the scant space between its brothers, however, people openly gawked.

Jean was one of them. “Holy shit,” he stated. “Where did you learn to shoot like that, Sasha?”

The brown-haired girl shrugged, a blush rising to her cheeks when she noticed she had an audience. “My parents taught me,” she replied. “We used to shoot our own dinner.”

Ymir barked out a laugh beside him. “Well, I wish they’d taught me. I’m good, but _damn_.” She gestured towards the three bulls’ eyes with a sweep of her arm. “That’s fucking impressive.”

Sasha’s blush deepened. “Um, thanks,” she said. “Though I’m not really sure how this will help us. It’s not like an arrow will take down a titan.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

The sound of the hybrid’s voice drew Jean’s attention, and he scowled as he watched the tall, lean form of Clio Jones saunter into view. Even if Jean didn’t have a reason to distrust the guy (and he _did_ have a damn good reason to distrust him), he still wouldn’t have liked him. Everything about the man was strange: his appearance, his mannerisms, his speech, his bearing, that weird fucking bun… _everything_. Jones was an amalgam of traits that added up to...well, Jean didn't know what the fuck it added up to, and that's what bothered him. Jones was a wildcard: he was trained as a soldier but didn’t act like one, he was skilled with weapons no one else in the Legion used, he retained a certain commanding presence even though he mostly kept to the fringes of the group, and the frightening disparity between the human and vampire sides of his face meant that it was nearly impossible to tell what he was thinking.

It irked Jean to no end, and as the Mutt passed by him and headed towards Sasha, Jean stared daggers at his back.

“Where did you aim your arrows when you went hunting with your parents?” He asked.

Sasha shrugged. “Depends. On bigger game, we’d go for the heart or lungs. On smaller animals that don’t have much to them, though…” Her eyebrows scrunched together in thought for a second. “The eyes, usually. It’s a hard shot to make but if you get it, it kills them quick and you don’t risk contaminating the meat.”

The hybrid nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Was the eyeshot one that you could make?”

“Most of the time, yeah. But why does it matter?”

“Because one shot through the eye will take a titan down, a feat that would take multiple shots otherwise.”

Jean piped up, not liking how sure of himself the hybrid sounded. “How do you know that?” He demanded.

Clio Jones turned towards him. “Because I’ve done it. A katana is my weapon of choice but that doesn’t mean I haven’t experimented with others.” He looked over to Ymir and back to him, addressing them both. “You should give Sasha the bow,” he said. “There’s only one, and she’s clearly the best shooter you have. It would be a mistake to waste it on anyone else.”

Before he or Ymir had a chance to answer, Sasha reached out and put a staying hand on the hybrid’s arm. “Clio, maybe you should take it,” she suggested. “I’ve hunted animals, sure, but I’ve never killed a titan. You just said you’ve done it.”

“Yeah, and it took me five tries to get an arrow through its eye. Trust me, you’re better suited to use that bow than I am.” He glanced up. “Jean, Ymir—what do you say?”

Ymir nodded before Jean had a chance to argue. “Fine.”

Jean whirled on her. “You’re taking his side?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Mule, I’m not _taking his side_ ,” she said, echoing his words in a mocking voice. “We’re not five. I’m agreeing because the Mutt is right; Sasha _is_ the best shooter.”

Jean could feel heat beginning to creep onto his face. Ymir and Jones were right, of course. The bow should obviously go to Sasha. Ymir wasn’t taking sides by agreeing with something that made sense; she was simply using her brain, something that Jean had once again failed to do before opening his mouth.

“Fine,” he answered, chagrined. “Sounds good.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and stalked off in the direction of the hand-to-hand combat station, looking for a distraction and a way to cool off.

Unfortunately, he got both a little sooner than he’d expected.

“Hey, you—soldier boy!”

It was an entirely unnecessary exclamation. There was no possible way Jean could have _not_ seen the burly man lumbering towards him, blood running down his nose and chin like a faucet and dripping onto his shirt. He was trying to stem the bleeding with his left hand while motioning Jean over with his right hand in a pantomime of a wave.

With an inward groan and a mutter of " _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me"_ under his breath, Jean jogged over to the man. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked, forced to look up. The guy had a good six inches on him, maybe more, and he was built like a carthorse.

“That scary little soldier lady,” came the reply. “One minute I’m upright, fighting, and the next I’m knocked clean off my feet with my head in the ground and this—” he moved the hand away from his face to show Jean his bloody nose “—see? Oh, fuck,” he added, realizing that the blood was starting to run freely again. He cupped his nose again and tilted his head back. “It won’t stop bleeding.”

Rolling his eyes, Jean yanked him by the shirt. The guy didn’t so much as budge (seriously, the man was a fucking _wall_ ), though Jean’s tugging did get his attention. “What?” He muttered.

“See that stump?” Jean motioned to the right. “Go sit on it. Don’t argue with me, just do it.”

The burly man did, sitting down heavily.

“And stop tilting your head back, dumbass. You’re just making all that blood run down your throat. You could choke.”

Again, the man did as Jean requested, looking at him for further instruction.

“Pinch the sides of your nose—no, not there, you idiot, you still need to be able to breathe. Yeah, good. There. Now, just lean forward and stop acting like a bloody nose is some kind of battle wound.” Sitting, the man was more or less eye level with him, and Jean took a closer look at his nose. “It’s not even broken,” he added.

The burly man didn’t say anything in response, just sat there as instructed until the blood flow started to taper off. A few minutes later it stopped completely and the man sniffed in experimentally. “Wow,” he said, eyebrows rising in apparent satisfaction. “Nice. How’d you know what to do?” He asked, his small, close-set, muddy brown eyes scrutinizing him.

“Practice.” Jean snorted, a few memories coming to mind. “I’ve gotten punched in the face enough times to know how to handle a bloody nose.”

The burly man laughed, a deep sound that rumbled through his large chest. “You deserve any of ‘em?”

“All of them, to be honest.”

Another rumbling laugh. “So you’re an asshole. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Jean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re one to talk!” He fumed. “You’ve been a dick to me and Ymir...hell, you've even been a dick to Captain Levi, and you wanted to leave that lady to die in the woods! I might be an asshole but I’m not even close to your level.”

If his tirade bothered the larger man, it didn’t show. “You got a name?” He asked.

The total change of direction threw Jean for a loop. “Yeah,” he answered slowly, confused. “Jean.”

“I’m Ed. Short for Edison. My mother picked it because she thought it sounded smart, which is exactly why I don’t use it. I’m an asshole, my name’s Ed, and I care most about me, myself, and I. Doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart, just means that if I think someone or something is going to wind up getting me killed, I’m sure as shit going to have a bone to pick.” He picked himself up from the log, once more towering over Jean. “I don’t let anyone walk over me and I don’t go along with anything I don’t believe is good for me. Can you say the same, Jean?”

Jean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but for once he shut it again. Could he say the same? He thought of Ymir and the way he’d agreed with her plan to get the boomerang from Cap and kill the vampire. Did he really believe that was the best course of action, or was he just letting himself be bullied into Ymir’s plan?

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to be more of an asshole, to stand up for his own ideas a little more.

“I can’t,” he answered at last. “Yet.”

Ed nodded. "Maybe it's something you should work on. Take it as advice from one asshole to another." He straightened. "Well then. I'm gonna go find that little soldier lady again and see if I can't figure out how to stay on my feet for longer than a blink. Nice talking with ya, Jean."

Jean watched him walk away and then, on what he'd like to think was a whim but probably had more to do with what Asshole Ed had said than he'd like to admit, Jean went in search of the Mutt to see if he could teach him a thing or two about how to improve his sword skills.

 

**

It was finally quiet in the bunker, and even the few stragglers that had come in well after everyone else were now bedded down beneath the blankets that had been passed around and catching a few hours of rest, their eyes shut and their chests moving with the rhythmic ease of sleep.

Except, of course, for one stubborn little girl.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Petra murmured, stroking her daughter’s long hair. “It’s been a long day.”

“But I’m not even tired,” Cody argued. Her eyes were sparkling. “Did you see me today? I learned how to use a sword!” A wide yawn nearly swallowed the last word. “It was so fun,” she went on, blinking to keep her eyes open. “And seeing you pin that big guy down was so cool—you so could have been a hunter. Did Dad teach you how to do that? I bet he did. I wish he could have taught me, too. We could’ve all been hunters together.” She smiled sleepily. “Do you think we’d make a good team, Mom?”

Petra forced herself to smile. “Yes, Cody, I think we’d make a great team.” She continued stroking her daughter’s hair, idly undoing the tangled ends. “But first we need to get some rest, okay?”

Cody nodded, fading quickly. “Okay.” She yawned again and burrowed a little further under the blanket. “Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, sweetie,” she murmured back, her smile waning as soon as Cody’s eyes closed.

_We’d make a good team._

Someone else had said that to her once, years ago, and the memory was as fresh and raw as if he’d spoken the words to her only yesterday.

As was the memory of how it had ended.

Petra watched as Cody’s chest began to rise and fall and then gently nudged her daughter over on the cot so she could stand up without waking her. She was still tired but no longer sleepy, and the idea of spending the next few hours tossing and turning and thinking of _him_ made her stomach twist. It would be better to go get some air.

She stepped out of the bunker and closed the door as softly as she could in an effort not to wake anyone up, but she nearly ruined it when she turned and saw Clio Jones leaning against the wall not six inches to her right.

She stifled her surprised yelp with her hand.

He raised a brow at her. “Sorry,” he offered, though she could see him suppressing an amused smile. "It wasn't my intention to startle you."

She stepped away from him and frowned, annoyed and angry. “Apology not accepted,” she bit out, her earlier anger at him adding fuel to the current fire of her emotions. “I saw you training my daughter today. What part of ‘stay away from her’ don’t you understand?”

The human side of his face paled, and a flicker of reproach appeared in his hazel eye. “Right. I suppose I should have let her hack off a finger or two instead of stepping in.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “I’ll keep your request in mind the next time I see her swinging a weapon around that she doesn’t know how to use.”

Petra colored. “How dare you,” she accused, the words coming out like the hiss of hot coals on cold snow.

Clio arched a brow. "How dare I what?" He asked, taking a silent step towards her.

There was no threat in his words, and he asked the question almost conversationally, but Petra instinctively shrank away from him anyway, her amber eyes fixed on his dead one.

She must have looked as distressed as she felt, because the hybrid leaned away from her with a huff, shaking his head. “Tell me,” he inquired, “why is it so hard to look past the skin I wear—to believe me when I say that I would never hurt your daughter?”

Petra felt like someone had twisted a knife in her gut. “Past experience,” she answered, and then she turned and marched away before he had a chance to say anything else. She knew her anger at him was misplaced, knew that she was being callous and rude when he'd truly done nothing to deserve it, but she couldn't help the way she felt and she didn't have the energy or peace of mind to rectify the situation.

Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, but not now.

She didn’t know how far she’d gone when she found Levi. He had obviously been making his rounds but now he had stopped and was staring off into the forest, quiet and still.

She thought about turning back, not wanting to intrude on a private moment, but the thought of running into Clio Jones again changed her mind. She decided to stay, at least for a little while.

Levi glanced over his shoulder and watched her approach but didn’t say anything, remaining silent even as she reached his side.

Petra didn’t mind, though; she’d grown accustomed to Levi’s reticence over the years, and almost grateful for it. He was the one person with whom she could completely forgo small talk and not be frowned upon for doing it. He didn’t value social niceties and had never cared for politeness. When she’d first met him (well, the _second_ time she'd met him—the first time she’d introduced herself she’d been so nervous that she had stuttered all over her own name), she had assumed he was just an unfriendly jerk, but after serving in his squad she’d realized that he was just an immensely reserved person.

So instead of greeting him, she let the silence stand for a long while, staring out into the darkness of the surrounding forest and remembering other nights she’d spent standing watch like this, whiling away the hours with comrades long dead.

Comrades like Gunther and Eld and...

She pushed the memory of their faces from her mind and exhaled, her breath making a visible cloud in the cold night air. “Cody learned how to use a sword today,” she said quietly. “I’ve done so much to keep her from this life, to keep her from becoming like us, but it doesn’t matter. She’s growing up to be exactly like us anyway.” There was a numbness settling in her chest that had nothing to do with the cold. “She’s a soldier in the making.”

Levi stirred slightly beside her. “It’s in her blood, Petra,” he said at length. “You can’t change who she is.”

“I know.” She couldn’t quite keep the sour disappointment from her voice. “But she has so much passion, so much drive in her, and I just worry that…” She swallowed. “I worry that she’ll do something impulsive like her father did, all in the name of same greater good.”

Levi turned to face her, the angular lines of his face haloed by the moonlight that stretched down through the trees. “Auruo was a good man,” he said firmly. “What happened at the end was…” He paused. “He made the same shitty mistake that a lot of other hunters made. But he was still a good man.”

“Yes, he was.” Petra felt her eyes getting hot. “My husband was good man and I killed him.” She blinked hastily to prevent any tears from spilling over. “I killed him,” she repeated, unable to keep the guilt from her voice.

“You did what you had to do.”

“I know.” Petra hugged her arms around herself. “But if we hadn’t been soldiers, Auruo would still be alive. Cody would still have a father.”

“No. If the scientists hadn’t fucked up, Auruo would still be alive. Don’t blame the Legion for what happened; it wasn’t their fault.”

Petra shook her head gently. “You’re wrong, Levi,” she said. “Even if he hadn’t taken the vaccine, Auruo could easily have been killed on a mission. You and I both know what the death toll was like in the Legion. The only hunters who seemed to survive were you and the other Reapers, but then Jocelyn died and proved that even that wasn't true.” She froze, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized what she’d just said.

It was no secret that the two strongest Reapers in the Elite Five had been more than just a team on the battlefield, but not everyone had been privy to just how deep their feelings for each other truly were. But Petra _had_ known, which meant that she should have also known better than to carelessly throw Jocelyn's name out like she was nothing more than a footnote in the Reaper archives. Jocelyn had been a fearsome Reaper, yes, but she'd been much more than that; she was the only woman Captain Levi had ever loved. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, horrified. “I had no right to—”

“It’s fine, Petra.” Levi was staring straight ahead, expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. “It’s been nearly seven years; it’s not a fresh wound.”

Petra’s gaze flickered down to the boomerang holstered at his side. “Maybe not,” she said softly, sadly, “but it’s never really healed, has it?”

The tiniest furrow appeared in Levi’s brow before his expression settled back into marble-like blankness. “Some wounds don’t heal,” came the listless reply. “Some just become scars.” He glanced over at her, and even though his tone was on the gentler side of harsh, Petra sensed that he was speaking to her more as a captain than as a friend when he said, “But scars aren’t excuses, Petra. You just have to accept that they’re there and move on.”

_Move on._

Petra chewed at her lower lip. It was a juvenile habit of hers that had persisted since she'd been a little girl, and she stopped when she realized she was doing it. "And you think that being a soldier again will help me do that," she concluded.

Levi didn't respond directly. "I think you need to stop denying who you are," he said. His voice hardened. "And stop using Cody as a crutch. You're better than that."

His words were like a slap to the face, but even though the impact of them stung, Petra found herself agreeing. Maybe it was time to stop denying who she was, time to stop shielding her daughter from the truth just because _she_ was afraid to accept what had happened.

Petra straightened up in a posture she hadn't used in years. "Yes, sir," she said, her hand curling towards her chest in a salute she'd never thought she would demonstrate again.

 _That_ gained Levi's full attention. He turned to look at her, regarding her more closely than he had since she'd gotten there. Finally, he inclined his head. "Goodnight, Petra," he said.

She thought she detected a flash of approval in his steel eyes, but that might have just been her imagination. What she was sure of, however, was that his words were ones of dismissal. Even long out of practice, interpreting Levi's tone of voice was still second nature to her.

She gave him a small smile. "Goodnight, Captain," she murmured, and then she made her way back to the bunker.

 

**

He moved through the trees like a shadow—unseen, unheard, a mere specter of a corporeal being.

And yet he was very much alive.

Long before he’d been injected with the _Titan_ vaccine, Clio Jones had been known in the Legion as the Wraith. It was a title he'd more than earned, though one that had been largely forgotten since the vaccine had caused his physical changes. Of course, everything had changed after that. The only ironic constant was that people had been afraid of him before and they were still afraid of him now—albeit in different ways. Before, people had been afraid of the things he could do. Now they were afraid of what he was.

In his Legion days, Clio had often been sent on reconnaissance missions that other hunters shied away from, spending almost as much time in the field as the Reapers. His talent for stealth had been unparalleled then, and now - with the enhancement of vampire DNA - his ability to move with deadly, fluid silence was truly unrivaled.

It was why Captain Levi had sent him, alone, to reconnoiter the deeper woods. The famed Reaper might not trust him, but he recognized ability when he saw it, and for now, Clio could accept that. Trust would come with time.

The predawn light filtering through the trees was weak, more akin to dusk than the onset of morning, and it made Clio’s task of remaining unseen even easier than it already was.

He scoped the entire area they’d already traveled, starting by retracing their steps and slowly branching out from there, canvassing sections of the forest that were largely uninhabited even by animals. Occasionally, he would stumble across remains – almost always nothing more than bones – but even those findings were few and far between. For the most part, the forest was empty, desolate.

Which was why, when he reached a high ridge overlooking a valley that stretched below him for miles, Clio came to a complete, shocked halt.

Because the valley was anything but empty.

He shut his eyes, opened them again, half convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him.

It wasn't.

There was a horde in the valley below, _horde_ being the only word that could encompass the vastness of what lay before him. The valley contained a mass of titans the likes of which Clio had never seen before. There were hundreds of them. Thousands. And they were arranged in neat, square blocks, a clear imitation of army regiments, complete with what appeared to be a general’s tent in the center of the base. There were also cages along one perimeter, with wolves pacing inside, and Clio had a nagging suspicion that they served a purpose similar to bloodhounds. He also could see, in the distance, a few titans on horseback, policing the far perimeter.

It wasn’t an imitation of an army; it _was_ an army.

Slowly, Clio backed away from the ridge, shock and horror etched onto the human side of his face.

And then he heard it.

A voice.

A voice that was raising a shout at an ear-splitting volume.

_I have to hide._

The thought occurred to him like an instinct, and he was in motion almost before he'd finished thinking it. He glanced about sharply and lunged to the left, swiftly climbing the nearest tree and hiding himself in the branches without rustling so much as a single leaf.

Just in time.

A titan came into view not twenty feet away from where he’d been standing, jogging forward with an air of focus that Clio had never seen a once-hunter possess.

The titan stopped directly below him, and Clio pressed himself deeper into the shade of the branches, praying that it could not detect his scent. _He_ had gained superior olfactory senses after the vaccine, but he had no idea if the same was true of titans in general.

Apparently it wasn’t. The titan had merely chosen to stop there by coincidence, and now it cupped its clawed hands around its mouth and let out another eardrum-bursting shout. After its voice died away, it stood there, breathing hard, waiting.

It didn’t have to wait for long.

Mere seconds later, Clio heard the pounding of hooves and then another titan crested the ridge, sitting tall on its mount. Like all titans, its eyes were pupil-less orbs of black and its lipless mouth was full of long, sharp teeth. Its clawed hands held makeshift reins, and Clio could see the crusting of blood beneath its nails. He could also smell the sickness rising from its mount, the stink of decay that proved the horse was also infected.

It was bad enough to be distracting, until the seated titan _spoke_.

 _“News?”_ It grated out, voice like coarse sandpaper.

The other titan bobbed its head. _“Our trackers are...leading the beasts...to the bunker now. It...will be done soon... before the humans...reach the mountain."_ It paused often as it spoke, its voice pained and almost bloody-sounding, as though each word it uttered was shredding its vocal cords.

Still, Clio understood every word.

As did its companion. The mounted titan widened its mouth into a misshapen grin. _“Good,”_ it rasped. _“Come.”_

He jerked on the reins and turned his horse around, the other titan following after without any further prompting.

Clio stayed frozen in place until the echo of the horse’s quiet footfalls faded, and even after that, the shock of everything he’d just witnessed rendering him immobile.

The titans had an army. They were organized. They had infected animals on their side. They could _speak._

And they intended to make sure that none of the survivors from Maria ever made it to Rose.

All of the fears that he and Captain Levi had shared about the once-hunters were not only true, but also worse than they had imagined.

Without making a sound, Clio Jones leapt down from the tree and landed on the ground, and then, without so much as a parting glance at the enemy camp occupying the valley below, he turned back the way he'd come and broke into a dead run.

 

**

The morning was bleak and cold and dark, the morning sun obscured behind a stretching swath of heavy clouds, and the air had a bite to it—one that suggested an early winter might be on the way.

Which was just fucking perfect, really. As if they needed something else to add to their list of ever-growing problems.

Levi stepped back from his perch on the rocky outcrop, frowning at the sky. It didn’t matter whether the obviously approaching storm would bring rain or snow; both could be disastrous. They’d begun climbing in elevation when they’d set out hours earlier, and the group had almost reached the point where the forest gave way to larger mountains—mountains that Levi had been intending to lead them over.

But judging by the way the sky looked…

“You can’t take them up the mountain today,” the vampire said as she appeared at his side, voicing the very thing he’d been thinking. “It’s too much of a risk.”

Levi glanced over at her, surprised to see what appeared to be genuine concern in her dark eyes.

Inexplicably, it annoyed him. “This entire journey is one big fucking risk, vampire," he said dryly, "so what makes you feel the need to start pointing out the obvious now?"

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m being serious, Reaper. If you take those people up the mountain and get caught in a storm it could mean all our deaths.”

Levi's lips thinned into a grim line. “I’m aware of that,” he said curtly, regarding her again. He’d offended her with his comments – he could see the subtle defensiveness that had crept into her posture – but he could also see the clench of determination in her jaw and the concern still visible in her eyes.

 _You're a strange one, Mikasa,_ he thought. _And certainly different than any vampire I've ever met._

Levi knew next to nothing about her, but he sensed that she wasn’t one to take danger lightly or make rash decisions, and that was something he could respect. He crossed his arms, coming to a decision. “What would you do?” He asked.

She blinked at him. “You’re asking for my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Mikasa stared at him for a moment, as if trying to determine whether or not he was serious. Levi waited her out, and finally she seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth. She moved past him and stepped onto the outcropping he’d been on minutes before, peering up at the ominous sky. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her face up, breathing in deeply. Her hair rustled around her shoulders as it caught the breeze.

After a few protracted seconds, she turned back to him. “I think we should go back to the bunker and take shelter until the storm is over.” She stepped down from the outcrop. “That’s my opinion.”

Levi nodded. “It’s mine, too,” he admitted. He scoffed lightly as he noted that the look of surprise had returned to her face. "What—did you think I would disagree with you just for the sake or disagreeing?"

"Perhaps." He wasn't sure whether or not he imagined the faint blush staining her cheeks. "You can't fault me for thinking that way, Reaper," she replied, staring at the ground. "You've been abrasive and antagonistic towards me since the moment we met."

Well, he couldn't argue with that. "I suppose that's true." He paused. "But in this instance, vampire, I honestly wanted a second opinion. I've made enough bad calls to know that sometimes, someone else has better instincts than I do."

He realized he was starting to ramble and stopped, then cleared his throat when he saw her staring at him. “Enough chit chat," he muttered, breaking eye contact. "Let’s round everyone up.”

The sentence was punctuated with a foreboding roll of thunder.

 

**

It didn’t take long.

Initially, there was a little bit of arguing – though more of it was whispered grumblings than anything else – but as soon as the second loud rumble of thunder was heard, everyone shut up and began to walk with purpose. By the time the first drops of rain began to fall, they were making good time back towards the bunker.

The vampire kept pace with him the entire time, a silent presence by his side. Levi tried not to pay attention to her, tried to focus on the path, but he still immediately noticed when she jerked her head sharply to the left.

“What is it?” He asked, voicing his question loudly enough to be heard over the wind and rain.

She frowned, her porcelain brow wrinkling slightly. “It’s Clio,” she said. Her frown turned anxious. “But not only Clio,” she added.

Levi held up his hand. The group stopped behind him and he gave a clipped, barked order that silenced everyone in a heartbeat.

The vampire stepped in close and lowered her voice. “I sense predators,” she murmured.

She was about to say something else when Clio Jones burst into view, running at a breakneck pace. He stopped in front of them, breathing hard, and a nervous susurrus immediately broke out among the civilians. Levi had to call for quiet again in order to hear the hybrid.

“We can’t go back to the bunker,” Jones said once the whispering died down, voice low and breathless. A few hairs that had come loose from his bun were sticking to the sweat and rain on his face and he wiped them back in a fast, jerky motion. “They’re coming," he went on. "Titans and...something else.”

Levi sensed that there wasn’t time for a full explanation, so he didn’t ask for one. “How long do we have before they reach us?”

The hybrid shook his head. “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe a few more.”

Levi cursed, looking behind him at the two dozen worried, rain-wet faces. They couldn’t go back to the bunker, and the weather was getting worse by the minute. Levi could already feel dampness seeping through his shirt and they were still mostly shielded by the trees overhead. If they tried for the mountain, they would be caught in the middle of the storm.

_Damned if we do, damned if we don’t._

It was what Kenny would’ve referred to as a clusterfuck.

Suddenly, Levi felt a hand on his arm, jerking him from his thoughts. He looked down, surprised to see the vampire’s delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist. When he glanced up at her, there was a fierce determination glowing in her eyes.

“I know where we can go,” she said, “but you’ll have to trust me.”

"Tell me."

“The mines under the mountain.”

Levi jerked his arm from her grasp. “You’re suggesting I parade a group of humans through a vampire stronghold?” He growled. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

Faster than a striking snake, Mikasa once more locked her hand around his wrist. “Listen to me!” She insisted, dark eyes burning. “The mines have been abandoned for years. We’d be safe there, and completely alone. We could ride out the storm and whatever else is coming.”

He didn’t believe that for a second. “I’ve encountered some of the vampires that live in those mines, and I know for a fact they wouldn’t just abandon their home. They are the most territorial fucking vampires I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes, they were,” she answered, the words thick and pained, “but they’re all dead.”

Levi started. “What?”

“Your once-hunters butchered them right along with the rest of my people," she revealed. "The vampires who lived in the mines left their home to help the smaller clans fight off the titans nearly five years ago. Not one of them made it back alive."

Levi said nothing.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why no one has come to my aid?" She continued, looking at him like he was the biggest fool in the world. "Why not a single one of my people has tried to help me?”

The truth hit Levi like a fist to the gut. “You’re the only one left.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Levi stared at her, speechless. So Mikasa was the last of her kind—the last vampire in the world. That should have been welcome news, should have made him feel confident that when he eventually dispatched her, humankind would be free of their oldest enemy. 

Instead, his first reaction was to wonder how on earth she'd survived all these years, completely alone.

But he forced the thought and its accompanying emotions away, chagrined that he would feel - even for a brief, fleeing moment - the slightest bit of empathy for a vampire.

"Please." Mikasa released his wrist but held his gaze, her own never wavering. “Levi,” she pleaded, pronouncing his name like it was a foreign word, “trust me. I’m not leading your people into a trap. I’m trying to help.”

He stared at her, torn. He didn’t want to put their fate in her hands, didn’t want to trust her, but at the same time he didn’t think that she was lying. In fact, for some unknown reason, he was sure she wasn’t.

“All right,” he relented, then added quickly under his breath: "just this once." He pushed past her and addressed the others. "Change of plans," he announced. "There are titans coming for us. We can't go back to the bunker without encountering them, so we're going to follow the vampire and wait out the storm in the mines under the mountain. Don't argue, and don't ask questions."

He turned back to Mikasa and gave an order he'd never thought to give.

"Lead the way," he said, voice grave. He could barely believe the words had left his lips, that he - a hunter, a member of the Elite Five, the most infamous Reaper of his generation - was effectively relinquishing command to a vampire. A fucking  _vampire._

He could practically hear Kenny cursing at him from beyond the grave.

And yet some sliver of intuition was telling him, as he watched Mikasa handily take charge of the situation, that he had made the right call.

 

**

The scout named Duro surveyed the entrance to the mine as the rain pelted down on him, his eyes lingering on the dark opening. He knew the humans were somewhere inside; it was the only place they could have gone.

With a jerk of his arm, he reined his horse to a stop and held up a clawed hand, calling for a halt.

The other scouts obeyed instantly, those with torches still alight waving them overhead to signal to the rest. Soon, without any complaint, the entire party drew to a halt, although the leashed bears pawed at the ground angrily, growling, frustrated at being stopped with a meal so close by.

Not that it mattered to Duro. The shaved mongrels would get their pound of flesh eventually.

He signaled to a few of the scouts not burdened with the bears and waited until they were all within earshot to give his orders. It took a great amount of effort to speak and he had no intention of wasting his breath or repeating instructions.

When they were all gathered before him, he sounded out two simple words: _“Bury them.”_

They did, throwing themselves bodily at the beams supporting the mine entrance, heedless of the harm they were doing to themselves, until the old wood groaned and gave way. Then they continued on, using their bodies to dislodge stones and dirt and small boulders until the entrance was more or less filled in.

There was only one thing left to do. Reaching into the pack secured to his mount’s saddle, Duro retrieved the slender stick of dynamite and tossed it to his nearest lackey, who caught it clumsily with his clawed hands.

_“Set and light.”_

The titan did as he was told, working quickly, and then one of the others passed him a torch. Its fire was fading now in the rain, but it hadn’t yet gone out and would serve its purpose.

And it did.

The explosion blew out the entire front of the mine, and then the ceiling collapsed down on itself in a shower of dirt and rock. When the dust settled, Duro saw the titan who had lit the fuse half-buried in the rubble, blood pooling from the place where his skull had gotten bashed in.

But it was no matter. The dead creature had merely been a mindless drone, a convenient pawn to use and discard. The important thing was that the mine entrance was now nothing more than a sealed tomb.

Now, the humans would have no choice but to travel through the mine to the only other entrance on the opposite side of the mountain. Either they would fail to make it there and starve to death beneath the ground, or they would succeed and find Duro waiting for them. He might lose a few more of his squad traveling over the mountain with the storm raging on, but again, it didn't matter. The only thing he cared about was seeing his mission through, and so far it was going very, very well.

Sitting proudly in the rain and surveying the destruction he had caused, Duro opened his maw and exposed his teeth.

It was an expression, he thought, that the humans would have called a smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, I know, and one that focuses a little more on side characters than it does on L & M. I wanted to include more (I actually planned this chapter to be a few scenes longer), but I've had so little time to write that I thought it would be better to break things up a little instead of taking twice as long to update. I can't say that it was the right call or that I'm completely happy with this, but I hope you enjoyed it (at least a little!) and that it tides you over until the next update. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	7. Hidden in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that there are some very dark elements to this chapter. (To those of you that have been reading my stuff for a while, I'm sure that's not altogether surprising, but I thought I would give you a heads-up just for good measure.)
> 
> So anyway, here's to hoping this chapter punches you in the feels as much as I intended it to ;)

_If my years of service have taught me anything, it is that the monsters we can kill are not nearly as terrible as the monsters we can become._

\- Reflection taken from the last surviving pages of Damon's memoirs, preserved in the Reaper archives 

**

 

When the explosion hit it felt like the world was ending. The sound of it was deafening, and the force of it was enough to send everyone sprawling as the entire cave seemed to shake and buckle and groan. Clio lunged aside just as a shower of dirt and debris came crashing down near the entrance, narrowly dodging the collapsing support structures and the weight of the heavy boulders and rocks raining down from overhead. There were cries of pain and dismay all around him, a disorienting cacophony of general panic, and then the cave was plunged into blackness as the entrance became entirely blocked in.

Clio sputtered, coughing up the lungful of dust he’d breathed in and trying to regain his bearings. He couldn’t see, his head was spinning, and there was a painful ringing in his ears, a high-pitched, screaming white noise that he could feel all the way to his eardrums.

Stumbling, he managed to make his way over to a wall, somehow managing to avoid bumping into anyone as he did so. He leaned back against the cool surface and focused on slowing his heart rate, inhaling and exhaling in deep, even breaths and tuning out the noise around him as best he could.

Slowly, the ringing in his ears began to fade. The dizziness receded, too, and his sense of equilibrium returned enough that he was able to take the pack off of his back and set it down on the ground at his feet. He rummaged in it, hands searching for the small carbide lamp he'd stowed there when they left Maria.

Finally, his fingers closed around its familiar brass surface and he pulled it out. He knew there was still carbide in the lower chamber, but he held it up to his ear and shook it lightly to determine if there was still water in the upper chamber, rewarded when he heard the faint slosh of liquid inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, he clicked the valve to high and waited until he could hear gas being produced. Then he cupped his hand over the small reflector, hit the striker, and a second later there was a small flame illuminating Clio and everything around him.

“Oh, thank God!” Someone said, and suddenly the entire group was surrounding him, everyone trying to get close to the light.

A small, curious face materialized at his hip.

“What is that thing?” Cody asked, her amber eyes fixed on the flame.

Clio smiled. “It’s called a carbide lamp. Miners used to use them a long time ago.”

He could see her beginning to form a follow-up question, but she never had the chance to voice it because her mother, Levi, Ymir, and Jean were suddenly there, followed closely by Mikasa.

“How much extra fuel do you have for that thing?” Levi asked.

Clio shook his head. “Not much. Enough to buy us five hours of light, six if we're lucky.”

Even in the shadowy illumination, Levi’s scowl was unmistakable. “So we’ll have to find another light source, then,” he said, glancing towards the wall of boulders where the cave entrance used to be, "because we’re certainly not getting out the same way we got in.”

“We could try to move the debris,” Jean suggested, but Levi instantly shot the idea down.

“No. We don’t know how unstable the remaining support structure is and if we start shifting everything around we could end up bringing the rest of this cave down on our heads.”

“Well that’s just fucking great,” Ymir snapped, kicking at the ground. “So not only are we going to run out of light in a few hours, but we’re trapped here, too.” She aimed a glare in Mikasa’s direction. “Nice going, Fangs,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really saved the day. Bringing us in here was a real genius idea.”

Clio was about to jump to her defense when Levi beat him to it.

“Cut it out,” he ordered. “There's no way the vampire could have known that the titans had dynamite. None of us could have guessed that.”

“You realize this means that they could have other advantages we know nothing about,” Petra added quietly.

“True.” Levi looked back at Clio. “What did you find when you were out scouting?”

Clio glanced down briefly, aware that Cody was still standing at his hip. Her presence made him hesitate to speak of what he’d seen, but she didn’t move and her mother gave no indication of wanting her to leave, so he had no choice. It wasn’t like he could sugarcoat the truth.

“The titans have an army,” he said. “I saw it. It’s massive. There are regiments, leaders, and definitely some form of military organization. They also have animals at their disposal—wolves, horses, et cetera. They basically have their own Legion.”

“Anything else?”

“I also heard a couple of them speak.”

“What?” Jean interjected, his tone one of disbelief. “That’s insane. Titans can’t speak.”

“Maybe not all of them can, but at least a few must have developed the ability to because I definitely heard what I heard.”

Levi nodded, processing. “I’d like to hear a more detailed report later,” he said, “but right now we need to decide on a course of action before we lose what little light we have left.” He turned to Mikasa. “Do you know another way out of this cave system?”

The vampire stepped forward, the contrast of her black eyes and pale skin looking even more severe than usual from where she stood in the shadows. “Yes,” she said, “but we won’t make it there in five or six hours.”

The weight of that implication rested heavily in the air, but before it could drain them of all hope, Mikasa spoke again.

“That lamp isn’t necessarily our only light source,” she said. “The human miners who worked in these caves before my people came along installed a system of lights throughout all of the main passageways and caverns. If I remember correctly, there is an old generator not too far from here—maybe a mile or so down. I could go and try to turn it on.”

“That’s a nice idea, Fangs,” Ymir piped in, “but there’s just one problem: right now, our only light source _is_ the Mutt’s lamp, and you can’t just take it with you and leave the rest of us completely in the dark.”

“It might be necessary,” Clio said, ignoring the annoyance he felt at Ymir’s usage of his unwanted nickname.

“And what if we get attacked or something else happens while she’s gone?” Ymir argued, raising a brow. “We’d be fighting blind.”

“I don’t need to take the light with me,” Mikasa said quietly.

_What?_

They all stared at her.

“I can…see in the dark.”

Clio blinked in surprise. _That_ was a talent he certainly hadn’t inherited from the vaccine, but it was also something he’d never even heard of before, and he’d been studying vampires for years before he’d joined the Legion. He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever read something about it, but nothing came to mind.

Mikasa was looking at Levi. “I’ll go if you want me to,” she offered.

Levi was quiet for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “Petra, you’re in charge until we get back. Jean, Ymir—listen to her. Clio, keep that light burning for as long as you can.”

“I will.”

“And keep everyone from panicking. Set a good example and answer questions if people have them. Understood?”

They all nodded—with the exception of Mikasa.

“Until _we_ get back?” She repeated.

“Yes. We.” Levi answered her as though that should have been obvious. “You can’t go alone—even if you’re right and these mines have been abandoned for years, there’s still too much that could go wrong if you’re by yourself. There's no way we can afford that risk when you're the only one who knows the way out of this shitty place. I’m coming with you, for insurance.”

“But you’d be traveling blind,” she argued, incredulous.

“Only until you turn on the generator.”

She must have realized the futility of arguing with him, because instead of voicing another reason why she thought his plan was a bad one, she closed her mouth and stepped forward. “Fine,” she conceded, and then she held out her hand to him.

There seemed to be a silent communication happening between them, and although Clio wasn’t certain of the specifics, it became clear that a decision had been made when, after a brief hesitation, Levi took her proffered hand.

“Cap!” Ymir said, startled. “What are you doing? You can’t seriously trust this bloodsucker not to—”

“It isn't your call,” Levi said, silencing her, and before anyone else could comment on it, he nodded to Mikasa and she began to lead them towards the back of the cave, ignoring the stares and murmurings of the people gathered nearby.

Clio watched them walk away until the darkness swallowed them up, baffled into silence just like everyone else seemed to be.

Jean was the first to speak. “Well, there’s something I thought I’d never see,” he muttered under his breath.

Ymir snorted in disgust. "You and me both. I couldn't have even _hallucinated_ something that scary. I mean, a vampire and a Reaper holding hands? If that's not a bad omen then I don't know what is."

Her snide remarks were beginning to grate on Clio's nerves. "Or maybe," he voiced against his better judgment, "it's a good omen. A sign that even enemies can sometimes put aside their differences to work toward a common goal."

His differing perspective was met with a muttered insult and a disgruntled huff, but before Ymir had the chance to say anything intelligible, Petra piped up.

"Enough," she said firmly. "Levi told us to set a good example, and that means keeping the peace. So either drop your argument or stay away from each other. Okay?"

Ymir stalked off immediately without so much as a word, Jean following closely behind her, and Clio sighed and handed the carbide lamp to the petite woman. "Here," he said. "You keep the light for a while. Or give it to Jean or Ymir if you'd prefer. I'll be back."

She took it, more because he pushed it into her hands than for any other reason. "Where are you going?" She asked, a divot appearing between her brows as she peered up at him.

"Far enough away to keep the peace," he said, and he walked off into the dark.

 

**

Levi had never been reliant on anyone else before, but here, in the dank, dark cave system, he had no choice but to put his complete faith in the vampire leading him further and further down the labyrinth of tunnels. He couldn’t see a fucking thing—not the outline of Mikasa walking just ahead of him, not even his own feet. It was like walking in a black, disconcerting nothingness, an almost weightless void of sensory deprivation, and the only things grounding him were the feeling of earth beneath his feet and the cool but strong grip of Mikasa’s hand in his.

She was leading him along like someone would a blindfolded horse: calmly, gently, murmuring brief instructions like “step down” and “shift to the right” every so often to keep him from stumbling or falling into a hole. He hated being so helpless; it made all the times Kenny had called him a useless sack of shit seem pinpoint accurate, but there was nothing he could do to change that because he _couldn’t fucking see_. He might have the best senses of any Reaper since Damon, but it didn’t matter one iota because there was no way his eyes were ever going to adjust to total blackness—and not for lack of trying. He kept blinking and squinting, trying to force shapes and outlines into his vision despite the fact that he was successful in doing nothing except making his eyes ache.

And all the while Mikasa kept moving, guiding him along, her steps never faltering in the darkness.

It pissed him off to the point where he finally had to ask her about it.

“How can you possibly see anything?”

He expected her to say something about vampire superiority—better eyesight, better senses, whatever. Instead, she merely said, “I can’t.”

Levi came to a dead stop, ignoring the tug of her hand as she tried to continue on. “What do you mean ‘you can’t’?” He asked.

“I mean,” she repeated, “I can’t.”

"So you lied."

"I didn't lie; I just simplified the truth."

It was strange to have this conversation while they were holding hands (even stranger than it was to be holding hands with a vampire at all), but Levi wasn’t a big enough fool to let go. After all, she could leave him there, and that was a scenario he wasn’t willing to chance, regardless of the fact that he still had her heart on him.

“Then how?” He pressed, his hand tightening around hers until he could feel the bony press of her knuckles against his fingers. “What's the truth? Have you been here before—is it muscle memory or something?”

“No.”

Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the reluctance in her voice.

He gave an irritated exhale through his nose. “Are you going to make me pull this out of you one syllable at a time, vampire?”

“Not if you stop prying.” He could tell by the clarity of her voice that she had turned to face him. “I’ve guided us safely so far, haven’t I? Why do you need to understand the specifics of how I’m doing it?”

She had to be joking. “Because we have people relying on us, and I need to be convinced that you’re not going to get us killed down here. I need to know that _you_ know what you’re doing.”

“I do.” He could hear the irritation in her answer, and beneath that, a trace of injured pride. “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

He scoffed. “Why should I?”

“Because,” she answered, voice dropping in pitch and rising with annoyance, “you’ve taken my word about a lot of things today, Reaper. Maybe you should keep the trend going.”

Her sarcasm only solidified his stubbornness. “Trends die down,” he said flatly. “And we’re not going another step until you explain how the fuck you’re leading us around down here without being able to see.”

“Fine.” The word was a huff of exasperation. “Since you insist on knowing, I can _sense_ our surroundings. I use the vibrations from the earth to guide my way. Everything has a feeling, a pitch, a hum…I can use those to form a reliable impression of the area around me.”

He frowned, even though the gesture was lost in the dark. “Can all vampires do that?” He never remembered Kenny or anyone else mentioning that particular ability before.

But Mikasa’s answer made it clear as to why. “No,” she admitted. “Most can’t. It’s extremely rare to be able to see without eyes, but it runs in my family.” She paused. “ _Ran_ in my family.”

Levi repeated her words in his head before echoing them. “Seeing without eyes?”

“That’s what my grandmother used to call it.”

He loosened his grip on her hand, distracted by that revelation. It made sense, of course, that Mikasa had a family. Everyone had family at one point or another. Some people were even lucky enough to have family all their life. But it was still odd to imagine a vampire – his enemy – talk about a familial bond the way a human would, to hear the sadness in her words and know that she felt the same grief over losing a loved one that a human would.

“Did you have other family, before?” He had no idea what prompted him to ask, but the words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

Mikasa paused before answering. “Yes,” she finally said, a question hanging in the air. “I had a mother and father and an entire village worth of family.”

“Were they killed by hunters?” He was surprised to find that he hoped the answer was a no.

“Titans,” she said. “But why do you care?”

“I don’t.” The words were colder than he’d intended.

There was another drawn out pause. “Did you?” She asked at length.

“Did I what?”

“Have family.”

Her question surprised him despite the fact that he’d just asked her the same thing, and even though his initial reaction was to tell her to mind her own damn business, he bit it down. After all, _she’d_ answered the question, hadn’t she?

“Yes,” he replied. “My mother died when I was a child and I never knew my father, but I had an uncle,” he admitted. “Kenny. He didn’t really raise me but he was there. And I had—” He stopped himself before he could say the names of his squad, before he could say Isabel or Farlan.

Before he could say Jocelyn’s name.

“—Other people,” he finished, unable to hide the huskiness of his voice. He felt the press of her fingers on his knuckles, and he took a long, steadying breath, letting the memory of dead loved ones fade and focusing on that small point of physical contact. In the blackness, where he could imagine that the two of them were just living beings instead of a Reaper and a vampire, the feel of her hand holding onto his was almost reassuring.

“Why do _you_ care?” He finally asked, repeating her own question back to her.

And she repeated his answer. “I don’t.” He could tell by the drifting of her voice that she had turned away from him. “We should keep moving,” she said.

He gave an unintelligible sound of affirmation and let her begin to lead him along again.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours, though it easily could have been minutes or days and Levi wouldn’t have known the difference. There was no change down there in the dark. There was just the cold air, the dizzying blackness, and the weight of the vampire’s hand in his.

Until suddenly, there was a change. An unpleasant one.

Levi wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was rot of some kind, the putrid stink of something decaying. Aside from that, though, he couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but fuck if it wouldn't have made a barn full of shit on a hot summer day smell like roses.

It was enough to make him feel incredibly nauseated, but it also left him feeling uneasy. “Any idea what the hell that is?” He asked the vampire, voice pitched barely above a whisper.

Mikasa heard him anyway. “I can't say for sure," she answered, uncertain, "but it smells like…” She trailed off, her hand twitching in his.

And Levi knew why; he heard it too.

The soft, distant tread of bare, running feet. It was gone after a moment, and Levi had his knife out in a heartbeat, instincts taking over.

But Mikasa applied gentle pressure to his hand. “Put it away,” she whispered. “It’s useless as long as we’re blind.”

Levi kept the knife in hand. There was something down there with them, and it had been more than one pair of running feet he’d heard.

“How long until we reach the generator?” He asked. He knew he didn’t have to impress upon the vampire just how bad their situation could get; he could sense her own apprehension in the slight tremors of her hand.

“It’s close.”

 _It had better be,_ Levi thought, just as there was another brief patter of movement followed by a faint, guttural sound.

Alarm bells ringing, he squeezed Mikasa’s hand with renewed urgency. “We need to hurry.”

The vampire didn’t say anything else, but she began to move again, picking up her pace to such an extent that Levi had to considerably lengthen his stride to keep up with her. A few times he found himself jerked around as she veered in a new direction, and the sudden motions felt like hell on his unsuspecting joints, but there was no possibility of avoiding it.

They needed light and they needed it now.

Suddenly, they rounded a bend and Levi was hit with a gust of cold air that carried the distinct smell of stagnant water and a much stronger aroma of rot. The foulness of it was so intense that Levi felt his gut lurch in revolt and he had to fight down the subsequent upsurge of bile.

And he was just about to lose that battle when something attacked him.

It came from behind and latched onto his neck, yanking him back so quickly and forcefully that Levi gasped in shock, his hand instantly ripped from Mikasa’s grasp.

He heard her call his name but he couldn’t respond; the thing grabbing his neck was choking him so hard that even breathing was impossible. In a desperate attempt to get free, he stabbed blindly behind him, hoping to hit something with his knife, but before he could, something else latched onto his arm and pried the knife from his fingers.

Then he felt teeth on his skin.

He grunted in pain as the teeth bore down on his arm, their blunt edges digging into him and breaking skin. Thinking quickly, he used his free hand – the one that had been holding Mikasa’s – to deliver a palm strike where he imagined a face would be.

He was rewarded with a crunch of contact, and whatever was trying to gnaw at him reeled back, howling in pain. It was a small victory, but the constricting weight around his throat was tightening so badly that it hardly mattered. A second or two more and his neck was going to snap.

It would have been easy to panic, and he almost did, but at the last second Levi remembered that Jocelyn’s boomerang was still secured at his hip. It had been so long since he'd thought of it as a weapon that he'd forgotten it could still be used as one.

With an immense amount of strength and agility, he unclipped it, grabbed it by the center where Mikasa’s heart was—trying not to squeeze too hard, and twisted his arm behind him, slicing the blade through the thing hell bent on crushing his throat.

He felt a warm splash of liquid hit the back of his neck – blood – and then the awful pressure was gone from his neck.

Breathing hard, Levi crouched down and listened, trying to discern where the next attack would come from and trying to ignore the awful throbbing of his arm.

But the sound of anything that might have been approaching him was suddenly drowned out by a loud, creaking groan and the low whir of the generator starting up as Mikasa flipped the main breakers.

Seconds later, fluorescent lights began to flicker overhead and Levi’s world was filled with blinding brightness and the horrific sound of agonized screams.

 

**

“They’ve been gone a long time.”

It was a pointless comment, Jean knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. Every passing minute without activity was making his anxiety grow. He didn’t like waiting around, helpless and trapped, and even though he’d never been claustrophobic, he was beginning to feel suffocated. Breathing evenly was hard. Staying focused was harder. Trying not to panic was nearly impossible. And all of the tension was making him sweat despite how cold it was in the mine, the perspiration soaking his shirt and making him shiver.

“They’ve been gone a long time,” he repeated.

“Yeah.” Ymir’s answer was listless. She was slouched against one of the cave walls, staring down at the small carbide lamp she'd placed at her feet. Her expression was one of disinterest, but Jean had a feeling that the tightness around her mouth was due more to worry than apathy, even if she wouldn't admit it.

Jean swallowed and worked up the courage to ask the question that had been brewing in his mind since Cap and the vampire had disappeared into the dark. “What do we do if they don’t come back?”

“They’ll be back,” Clio Jones answered as he materialized in front of them.

Jean jumped, cursing. “Fuck, man, can you _not_ do that?” He snapped. “I mean, seriously, we’re already trapped in the dark. You don’t need to go sneaking up on people.”

“I would hardly call walking towards you ‘sneaking up’, Jean.”

“Whatever.” The sudden anger he felt was diverting his anxiety and he had no intention of letting it go. “And you can’t be sure they’ll be back,” he went on.

“Yes, I can,” the hybrid argued. He cocked a brow. “Or do you have so little faith in your captain that you think he won’t be able to handle himself?”

“ _He’s_ not the one we’re worried about, Mutt,” Ymir said, stepping forward. “He should never have gone off with that bloodsucker. There’s no telling what she’ll try to pull.”

“Actually, it’s fairly simple to infer what she’ll do,” Jones said, and for perhaps the first time, Jean heard a true undercurrent of anger in the hybrid’s voice. “Mikasa will try to _help_ us, just like she’s done numerous times already.”

Ymir didn’t back down. “Only because she hasn’t had a chance to do anything else. Trust me, if Cap didn’t have her heart she’d leave us to rot or bleed us dry.”

“Spoken like someone who is an exceptionally poor judge of character.”

It was Ymir’s turn to flare with anger. “Spoken like a vampire sympathizer,” she all but spit at him. “Though I guess that’s not surprising considering where _your_ loyalties must lie, Mutt.”

“You’re one to talk.” His voice seemed to drop twenty degrees. “Last time I checked, _I_ wasn’t the one plotting to steal from my superior.”

Ymir’s knife was out and pointed at Clio Jones before the last word had even left his mouth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

Jean looked around, noticing the silhouettes of shadowed faces all about them, watching. “Guys—”

But Ymir and Clio didn’t appear to hear him.

“If you don’t point that knife of yours somewhere else, I’ll be forced to take it.”

“Go ahead and try. I’d love an excuse to run you through.”

Jean put a hand on her arm. “Ymir, now’s not the time—”

She shrugged him off. “You’re right. We should have taken care of him our first day out. This is long overdue.”

For a halting second, Jean thought Ymir was going to make good on her words, that she was going to attack the hybrid. He could see it play out in his head: Ymir striking at him, Clio retaliating…blood, chaos, pandemonium.

But instead, there was suddenly a person stepping in between them, putting an end to the tension before it could snap into violence.

Petra.

“You need to stand down. Right now.” Her amber eyes were glowing in the faint light, and Jean could see the warning in them. A warning directed not at Clio Jones, as he initially thought, but at Ymir.

Ymir was a good five inches taller than Petra, and she used her size now, leaning forward and crowding the smaller woman. “Get out of my way.”

“No.” Petra shook her head, never breaking eye contact. “Not until you put that knife away.”

“I'm not putting it away until I’m done with it.”

The small crowd around them was getting bigger, and Jean could see Cody standing front and center. She had a small dagger in her hand – his, he realized – and she was staring at Ymir with a somber expression that looked unsettling on her six-year-old features.

If Petra noticed her daughter, she didn’t acknowledge it. She kept all of her focus trained on Ymir. “I’m asking you one more time to put it away,” she said.

Ymir said nothing, but Jean could almost hear the gears turning in her head.

And then she made her decision.

She shoved Petra out of the way and lunged towards Clio Jones, knife outstretched.

Jean’s feet moved before he consciously made the decision to, putting his body straight in her path.

It was stupid, reckless, impulsive—a good way to wind up with a knife in his gut.

But it never happened. Clio Jones yanked him out of the way right as Petra disarmed Ymir, and just as quickly as the situation had escalated, it fizzled out.

They ended up standing in a sort of semi-circle, Ymir on one side and Clio on the other, Jean and Petra in the middle. Cody was standing just outside of their group, her knife still clenched in hand.

With Ymir's knife still in hand and pointed at its owner, Petra finally glanced in her daughter's direction. “Put it away,” she said softly. Cody listened, slipping Jean's dagger back into her boot.

Then Petra turned on them, and the intimidation she lacked in height she more than made up for in tone. “Enough,” she said, the word as sharp as the sting of a whip. “We are done with this—this fighting and bickering amongst ourselves.” She moved out of her place and turned to face them, glaring at each of them in turn.

“Like it or not, we are a team. We need to work together. Which means that you two—” she pointed towards him and Ymir— “need to accept the fact that Clio Jones is one of us. He has done nothing to deserve the distrust and accusations you pile on him, and he is every bit as much a hunter as you or I am.” She raised a brow, probably sensing the verbal retaliation Ymir was two seconds away from giving. “Don’t believe me?” She asked. She raised her voice. “Stephan, who killed that titan back at the bunker seconds before it would have had you?”

A voice from the crowd answered, “The Mutt.”

“Jillian, who carried your pack for you yesterday when your leg seized up?”

Another voice. “That man Jones did.”

Petra’s voice dropped just slightly. “And Cody, who shared their ration of food with you when we first set out from Maria?”

“Clio did.”

Petra nodded. “And if that's not enough, you can always ask Sasha about his character. She was friends with Clio Jones before all of this happened.”

“It’s true,” Jean heard Sasha say from somewhere in the distance. “Clio is a good man and a good friend.”

Petra gave Ymir a loaded stare. “Satisfied?”

Jean was standing close enough to Ymir that he could read the dissatisfaction and skepticism on her face, and for a moment he was worried that the answer would be no. Instead, she crossed her arms across her chest and said, “Depends on your answer to my question. Why are you asking us to trust him when you’ve made it clear you don’t want him around your daughter? Why the double standard?”

For the first time since they’d started arguing, Petra's amber eyes homed in on Clio Jones. “I’m sorry for that,” she said, more to him than to the group. She turned back to Ymir. “That’s a fair question with an unfair answer. I treated Clio the way I did because he reminded me of a personal tragedy. I was projecting my feelings onto him, making assumptions about him that I shouldn't have made. Just like you're making assumptions about him now," she added. "But look at the facts, Ymir: Clio has proven time and again that he is trying to keep all of us – my daughter included – safe. His actions speak for themselves, and I'm telling you now that I _do_ trust him.”

Ymir’s stance became less defensive. “Huh,” she said. "Well, at least you answered honestly." She grudgingly turned towards Clio, pursing her lips. “I’m not going to apologize, Mutt, but you have my word that I won’t threaten you again. Unless,” she added, “you do something to deserve it.”

It wasn’t much of a peace offering, but the hybrid nodded anyway. “Fair enough,” he said, though he was looking at Petra, not Ymir, when he answered.

There was an awkward moment of silence until Jean realized that they were all waiting for him to say something.

He cleared his throat. “It’s like you said, Petra. We’re a team.”

She gave him a small smile as she handed the confiscated knife back to Ymir. “And four is better than three, right?”

Jean blinked, taken aback. He knew she was referencing that night in the cave when he’d said nearly the same thing to her, but he was surprised that she remembered. At the time, he wasn’t even sure that she’d heard him.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice suddenly thick. “It is.” And suddenly, he decided that it was worth taking it a step further. “And six is better than five,” he added.

It took a minute for that to sink in, but when it did, Ymir gave him a sharp look, defensiveness creeping back into her posture. “You’re talking about the bloodsucker, aren’t you?”

“Cap trusts her enough to go off alone with her, Ymir. That means something.” He looked at Jones and Petra, hoping for some kind of back up. “Don’t you guys think so?”

Petra nodded and Clio looked at him with something akin to respect, though it was hard to tell for sure given his vampire eye and the lack of light illuminating his face.

But his words confirmed it. “Mikasa is already invested in our group in small ways,” the hybrid said. “Maybe if we stop treating her like an outsider she’ll even become a part of it.” His lips curved up almost imperceptibly. “Same goes for me,” he added.

Jean felt his heart beating a little more quickly in his chest. _All right,_ he thought.  _Now we're getting somewhere._ “So we’re a team, then?” He asked, his gaze landing lastly on Ymir. “All of us?”

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, Mule," she said. "If you want to call us a team, then we're a team." The lopsided crook of a smile appeared on her lips. "Just don't plan on us making friendship bracelets or sharing stories around the campfire, okay? Group bonding's not really my thing."

And with that, she walked off, effectively deflating Jean's mood. He gave the others an exasperated look, hoping that someone other than him would comment on Ymir's piss poor attitude, but Petra only sighed and Clio Jones shrugged.

"It is what it is," he said. "There's no use being fed up about it."

Jean didn't understand how the hybrid was so calm. "Really? You're not bothered at all?"

Another casual shrug rolled off Jones' shoulders. "Not really," he said. "Besides, I think the bracelets would have chafed our wrists anyway."

He delivered the line so dryly that Jean wasn't sure if he was joking or not, though there seemed to be a flicker of amusement in his dead eye and Jean decided to run with it. 

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he said. "I'm gonna make her one out of spite."

Jones responded with a full-on smile. "Let me know if you need help stringing it together."

 

**

The pitch and volume of the earsplitting screams made Mikasa wince, but that pain was nothing compared to the sudden light that hit her retinas with all the intensity of the sun. It didn’t matter that the bulbs wired throughout the cavern they were in were dim; after such absolute darkness, even experiencing their dull light was excruciating. Mikasa clamped her eyes shut, hissing through her teeth, and took a few breaths before she slowly lifted her eyelids again.

The first thing she saw as her eyes adjusted was Levi, crouched over in the center of the cave, bleeding from a nasty cut on his arm and brandishing a double-bladed boomerang. There were pale, desiccated-looking creatures standing all around him – maybe six or seven of them – and all of them had their eyes squeezed shut and their mouths wide open, clawed hands scratching at their faces.

Mikasa no longer had to wonder where the screams were coming from.

It was just when she realized that that the creatures began to stop. Their screams died down to whimpers and morphed into growls, and their attention shifted from the pain of the light to the human standing in their midst.

They began to turn towards him, hands falling away from their faces as they opened their eyes.

Mikasa started. Instead of the black she’d been expecting, their eyes were milky white, filmed over and scarred.

Before she had time to process what that meant, one of them lunged at Levi, mouth open and snapping, and the others followed suit, advancing on the bleeding Reaper.

But even wounded, the Reaper was lethal. In the brief moments it took for Mikasa to run to his aid, he managed to take out two of the creatures with his boomerang, slicing through their throats with decisive precision.

Mikasa let the change happen—let her fangs descend and her claws sprout just as she reached the first of the creatures, and she slashed at its back, causing it to howl in pain. It rounded on her, maw opened wide, and Mikasa acted on instinct as its snapping jaws loomed closer. She closed one clawed hand into a jagged fist and speared it through the creature’s open mouth and straight out the back of its head. She felt the press of its teeth and the slide of its tongue on her forearm as it twitched in death, and then she retracted her arm with a snarl, shaking off the blood and bits of brain matter that clung to her skin.

As the dead creature fell to the ground, Mikasa stared, a sickening feeling coming over her. The creature had no claws, just long, dirty nails that she'd mistaken for claws. It had no pointed teeth, either, and no telltale physical traits that would indicate it was a titan. In fact, aside from its milky eyes and its pale, emaciated body, it almost resembled…

“Your seven o’clock!”

The Reaper’s shout saved her, pulling her from her observations and causing her to spin around just as another creature slashed at her. She shoved it away from her and then attacked, ripping out its throat with her teeth before it had a chance to recover.

The taste of blood made her stomach lurch, not in the unpleasant way it did whenever she came into contact with titan’s blood, but in the aching way it did when she tasted undiluted blood. _Clean_ blood.

She swallowed in spite of herself but resisted the urge to drink the corpse dry. She was drained from using her ability to guide them in the dark, but now was not the time to satisfy her thirst—a decision that proved wise as she looked up and saw more of the strange, albino creatures running into the cavern from adjoining tunnels and hidden crevices. There seemed to be dozens of them, and all of them were headed straight for her and Levi.

Gritting her teeth, Mikasa emptied her mind of everything but killing, focusing on taking down each creature that attacked them, letting her predatory instincts take over. She slashed, bit, and tore until she could barely see past the gore coating her face, until all she could smell was the blood of her kills and the suffocating smell of rot.

She ended up fighting back to back with the Reaper, both of them working in tandem to take the creatures down, covering each other as they fought off the steady stream of attackers until finally it was over and the last bodies hit the ground.

They were both breathing hard, and for just a moment, they rested against each other, backs pressed together, and Mikasa felt each stutter of Levi’s heartbeat through the thin layers separating them as if it were her own.

She pulled away first, staring down at the carnage around them.

There had to be at least thirty bodies, maybe more, and not a single one of them was a titan.

She retracted her fangs and wiped the blood out of her eyes before turning to look at Levi.

He looked as hellish as she no doubt did, drenched in blood and gore, his skin and clothing streaked with red like he’d bathed in it. But if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He was staring silently at the bodies on the ground, a palpable somberness hanging from every weary muscle of his body.

Mikasa didn’t know what to say, so eventually she just settled on his name.

“Levi.”

He flinched at the soft sound of her voice, his hooded eyes lifting from the bodies to stare at the far wall of the cavern.

“I didn’t realize what they were,” he said. “Not until I’d already put four of them down.”

“It took me a while to realize it, too,” she admitted.

“ _Tch_.” Levi glanced down at the nearest body, his brow wrinkling in disgust. “At least now we know what the rot is.”

Mikasa didn’t understand what he meant at first until she took a closer look at the bodies. Most of them had wounds in various states of healing, wounds that hadn’t been inflicted by her or Levi. Some of the wounds were shallow but others were deep, whole chunks of flesh missing, and all of them were jagged, crude, obviously made by something dull and flat.

Something like teeth.

The little color Mikasa possessed drained from her face, leaving her skin nearly white beneath the bloodstains. “They were cannibalizing each other,” she breathed, horrified.

Levi nodded. “There are probably rotting leftovers all throughout this cave system,” he said. “Unwanted body parts from the ones not strong enough to fight the others off.”

Mikasa studied the Reaper’s profile. She could see the wheels turning in his head, the brooding train of thought that was leading him towards a comparison he shouldn’t ever make.

Cautiously, Mikasa stepped closer to him. “These people aren’t your people,” she murmured. “What happened down here has nothing to do with you.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Doesn’t it?” He countered. “These people are humans, just like me.”

“They _were_ humans, just like the titans were humans once.” Mikasa looked around at the pale, malnourished bodies. All but a few were skin and bones and scraps of ragged clothing, and the only color on them other than the red of their blood was the dirt of their nails and the brown of their teeth. They were barely recognizable as human, little more than husks of what they once must have been.

“Being down here obviously changed them,” she went on. “Maybe they came down here before the lights went out and got trapped, or maybe they hid down here intentionally, but it’s clear that they’ve been down here for a while—they may have even been here since the vampires left five years ago. These kinds of physical changes don’t happen overnight.” She lowered her voice. “And neither do the mental ones.”

Levi’s gaze jumped from body to body, surveying. “You think they went crazy down here.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe they were always this way.”

Mikasa shuddered at the thought. “I don’t believe that,” she said.

But Levi appeared not to have heard her. “Maybe this kind of sickness exists in our group too. We haven’t snapped yet, but maybe it’s just a matter of time.”

Mikasa frowned. He didn't really believe that, did he?

“I don’t believe that," she repeated, more firmly this time, "and you shouldn't either. There are good people in your group, Levi.” She felt herself getting angry. “And shame on you for even thinking about them that way.”

For the first time, Levi turned to face her, some of his former somberness replaced by surprise. “Why would _you_ think that we are good people?” He asked. “We’ve all treated you like shit since the day I forced you into this.”

“Not trusting a vampire doesn’t make your people bad people,” she reasoned, drawing on what Clio Jones had once told her. “They’re afraid of me because that's just the way our world is.” She crossed her arms. “And you’re wrong. Not everyone has treated me poorly. Sasha and Connie have been kind to me, and so has Clio.” She dropped her gaze. “So have you,” she added quietly.

Levi snorted. “You have a warped sense of what kindness means, vampire. I can’t speak for the others, but I sure as shit have never been kind to you.”

Despite the sudden squirming in her stomach, Mikasa forced herself to look at him again. “You gave me blood when I was starving,” she said, swallowing thickly as the mere mention of his blood was enough to make her salivate. “You also treated me like an equal today,” she continued. “You let me lead the group based on nothing but my word.”

Levi crossed his arms, mimicking her posture. “Only because we had a serious lack of options. Trust you or die doesn’t leave much room for choice.”

His words were meant to cut her, she knew, but for some reason they didn’t. Maybe it was because the coldness of his tone didn’t extend to his eyes, or because there was something transparent about the bite of his sarcasm. Either way, she knew he wasn’t being entirely genuine. After all, considering that whenever he conversed with her he was either blunt or rude or sarcastic or monosyllabic, she’d begun to understand the nuances of his speech—both in what he said and in what he left unspoken.

So instead of rolling her eyes at him, she kept her gaze steady. “Still,” she replied, “you chose to trust me. You didn’t have to, but you did. Just like you chose to offer me your own blood. And I’m grateful for that.”

He stared at her in silence, and even though his eyes were half-hidden behind his bangs and the gore on his face, Mikasa felt pinned by the weight of his gaze.

And suddenly, inexplicably, she felt uncomfortable. Why had she said so much, been so honest? He was a Reaper. He didn’t care about her, and she certainly shouldn’t care about him. They were enemies. It wasn’t her job to offer support or a kind word when he needed one and it wasn’t her job to try and understand him. He had stolen her heart, taken her identity, robbed her of her freedom and her chance for revenge.

 _But,_ a tiny voice in her head argued, _he also went looking for you when you ran off, shared his blood and offered to share it again, and he watched your back down here when you were surrounded._

Mikasa willed that tiny voice away but it refused to go, refused to let her think of ~~Levi~~ the Reaper as just another enemy she could hate.

Because the awful truth was, she didn’t hate him anymore.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Mikasa let hers drift. It landed first on the pulse in his throat (where she could still see the twin marks of her possession on his skin) and her fangs twitched, but she quickly moved on, seeking something less tempting.

Which is when she noticed that the cut on his arm was in fact a bite.

Her earlier discomforted dissipated. “One of them _bit_ you?” She asked, reaching for his arm to take a closer look.

He casually shrugged her off. “I’m fine. It barely broke the skin.”

That didn’t assuage her concern in the least. “It could still get infected. Their teeth aren’t exactly clean.”

Levi huffed, pursing his lips unhappily. “Neither are we. Look at all this shit we’re covered in. We look like a fucking intestine bomb exploded all over us.”

Mikasa’s lips quirked up at that mental image. “We passed a few water sources on our way down here,” she said. “Most of them were stagnant, but a few of them weren’t. We could wash off on the way back up.”

“Good.” He passed by her and went to retrieve the knife he’d lost earlier. When he found it, he picked it up and sheathed it. “That’ll be a start, at least.”

“Yes, but water won’t help fight off an infection.”

“Relax, vampire. I took a few med packs from the last bunker. There are more than enough ointments and antibiotics to take care of one infection.”

She sighed in resignation. _Stubborn human._ “If you say so.” She was about to suggest that they start moving when she noticed something limping towards them in her periphery. She turned at the same moment Levi did, baring her fangs as he took out his knife.

And then both of them just stood there, staring in speechless shock.

The thing approaching them, jaws open and snapping, was a little girl no older than four or five. Her entire left leg was gone, torn away at the thigh, and she was missing multiple chunks of her scrawny arms. Her blonde hair was matted and tangled, falling in knots behind her small shoulders and tucked back to reveal her chewed-off left earlobe. Her eyes were the same milky white as all the others.

She was advancing towards them slowly, keening slightly as she hopped, bloody teeth bared the whole time.

It was like watching a wounded animal make a pitiful last stand.

Mikasa knew what needed to be done but she couldn’t do it. She retracted her fangs and stood there, doing nothing as the child approached and finally reached her. The little girl made a feeble attempt at attacking her, trying to bite her leg, but Mikasa leaned down and nudged her back.

“Can you hear me?” She asked. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

There was no spark of comprehension in her milky eyes. The girl simply started towards her again, jaws snapping. And again, Mikasa pushed her back, this time with a little more pressure. The girl fell to the ground, snarling.

Mikasa straightened and looked over at Levi, only to find that he looked as horrified as she felt.

She swallowed. “We can’t leave her here like this,” she whispered.

“I know.”

The problem was that there were no good options. And yet leaving her alone in the cave to starve to death with the corpses of what could potentially be her family members was by far the worst option. Mikasa looked back at the girl, at the _child_ , watching as she struggled to rise from the ground and wondering if she’d ever known love, if she’d ever felt the sun on her small face, if she’d ever even had a name.

Tears pricked the corners of Mikasa's eyes. She had to do it, she knew she had to, but it was just so awful and unfair and terrible and her feet wouldn’t move. Because it was a child, a _child_ , and children didn't deserve to die this way. Children didn't deserve to die at all.

But it didn't matter; life wasn't fair. It never had been and it never would be.

Mikasa took a deep breath and slowly let her claws descend, preparing herself for what she had to do, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

But before she could take a step forward, the Reaper placed a staying hand on her wrist. “Don’t,” he said, his voice softer, gentler, than she’d ever heard it. “This isn’t something you need to do.”

Mikasa turned her head to look at him. “Yes, it is. We _can’t_ leave her here.”

“We won’t,” he replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But—”

His hand lightly squeezed her wrist. “I’ll take care of it,” he repeated, dropping his hand away from her. “This isn’t your burden to bear.”

Mikasa could only nod.

She watched as Levi moved forward and knelt down next to the little girl, watched as he avoided the snap of her teeth and gently smoothed away the mats of hair clinging to her forehead, murmuring soothingly to her all the while.

Mikasa closed her eyes. She’d seen so much death, so much horror in her life that she should have been numb to it. But she wasn’t, and she couldn’t bring herself to watch Levi end the little girl’s life. It would be one more image to haunt her restless nights.

So she kept her eyes closed until the snarling came to an abrupt end, and she kept them closed even then, frozen in place until she felt Levi’s hand once more on her arm, his thumb giving a comforting brush against her skin.

“Let’s go,” he said, and Mikasa opened her eyes and nodded, following him from the cavern and wishing that they were still in the dark so that she would have had an excuse to find comfort in the strong grip of his hand.

 

**

Once Cody was soundly asleep, Petra went in search of Clio.

She found him at the base of the cave-in, alone, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and his katana resting across his lap. His fingers were brushing idly at its sheath but stilled once she sat down across from him.

For perhaps the first time since she’d met him, she allowed herself to really look at him, to study the features that reminded her so much of what had happened.

He would have been a handsome man, she decided, if it hadn’t been for the changes brought about by the vaccine. He had a strong jawline, playful lips, an expressive hazel eye, and the hint of laugh lines around his mouth and human eye.

But the dead, pale side of his face…that just reminded her of Auruo and what he’d looked like on that final, fateful night.

Clio’s gaze flickered to hers as she sat down but it dropped back to his sword once she had settled herself on the ground. He didn’t break the silence or look over at her again as the minutes stretched on.

Eventually, Petra decided she would need to speak first. She took a breath. “I meant what I said earlier,” she began, “when I apologized. I _am_ sorry.”

“I know,” Clio said after a long moment of silence. “I could tell. And I appreciate it.” He looked up at her briefly. “But you don’t have to keep apologizing. Once was enough…more than I usually get.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” she said. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. “I want to explain myself, to tell you why.”

A frown line creased his brow. “I don’t expect that,” he said. “You don’t have to bring up painful memories to put my mind at ease.”

“Yes, I do.” She wasn’t sure whether he needed to hear it more or she needed to say it, but it didn’t matter. She needed to explain it.

So she decided that for the first time in six years, she would.

“The Legion was my life for a long time,” she began. She wasn’t quite sure where to start, but going back to the time before seemed right somehow. “I always knew I wanted to be a soldier, even when I was as young as Cody is now. I think my father hoped I would grow out of it, that it was just a phase, but it wasn’t. I joined the Legion right out of school and a few months later I started volunteering to go on missions. One expedition became two, two became ten, and before I knew it, I was a member of Levi’s squad.” She paused, trying to collect her emotions before she got to the next part of her story.

“You were in the Legion, so you know that most squads rotated, changed from mission to mission,” she continued, “but ours didn’t. It was always the four of us—me, Eld, Gunther, and…Auruo.” She swallowed. “We asked Levi once why he kept us all together, and he said that the more in tune you are with the people in your squad, the better you’d work together in the field. And he was right; we were great together. Sometimes we didn’t even need to say anything to communicate. We would just all know what we needed to do, almost like we had a kind of group instinct or something.” She could remember missions where they’d barely spoken a word, raids where they had acted as extensions of each other without exchanging more than glances. There had been no squad quite like them, before or since.

“They must have meant a great deal to you.”

Petra looked up, realizing only at the sound of Clio’s voice that she’d lapsed into silence. He was looking at her now, his human and vampire eyes watching her with the same kind of quiet calm he always seemed to possess.

Petra nodded. “They did,” she said softly, heavily. “The rest of the Legion used to call us the Special Ops Squad – sometimes even Squad Levi – because they saw how formidable, how effective we were as a team. But the thing that no one except for the four of us knew was just how close we were. Over time, we became best friends.” The heavy ache she was always trying to beat down was welling up inside of her, tugging at the fragile bindings of her heart, and Petra knew that if she continued, there was a good chance she wouldn’t be able to repress whatever would happen when the bindings came loose.

But she couldn’t stop.

“I thought we were invincible for a long time, but we weren't," she said. "When Gunther and Eld died... it almost felt like _I_ died, too. They were such a part of me, of who I was, that losing them was like losing a limb.” She exhaled. “I thought it would tear us apart for a while, but somehow we coped. I think their deaths hit Levi the hardest, not that he ever opened up to us about his grief. But Jocelyn was there for him. Just like Auruo was there for me.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “He was _always_ there for me. Even when I didn’t want him to be. We would argue and fight about everything, but in the end, he was my lifeline—the one person stubborn enough to stay by my side."

And stay he had—through all of her bad days, through all of the times when the infamous Ral anger took over, through all of hell and back.

She sighed. “We got married in the spring, right when the flowers were starting to bloom, and by the time the blooms were starting to wilt I was pregnant with Cody.” She felt a ghost of her earlier wistful smile returning. “I’ve never seen anyone so determined to be a good father,” she said. “Auruo planned everything out for when the baby would come—he even took the time to refinish a few of his old wooden toys so he could pass them down to Cody. And he worried about me constantly, obsessively. If I hadn’t known he was doing it out of love I would have throttled the man." She paused. "He told Levi about my condition and I was banned from going on any more expeditions until after the baby was born. I was angry at first that he'd gone to Levi without talking to me about it, but I couldn't hold it against him; I knew the baby’s safety was more important than continuing to take assignments. So I left the Legion and Auruo stayed. Cody was born nine months later and everything was wonderful.”

It was easily the happiest she’d ever been, but it seemed so fleeting now that she could barely hold on to what that happiness had felt like.

She dropped her gaze to her hands, not wanting to look at Clio for this last, awful part. In order to share, she needed to shut him out, to shut everything out.

“Auruo was one of the first hunters to volunteer for the vaccine. I didn’t want him to, and neither did Levi, but no one could change my husband’s mind when he was set on something. He got the vaccine when Cody was six months old. I remember the day; he was supposed to go on a mission right afterward but there ended up being too many people and they took him off the list. Auruo came home just before dark, boasting that when he woke up the next day he would be strong enough to carry me with one arm and Cody with the other. I didn’t share his enthusiasm because I was worried, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until I woke up in the middle of the night and his side of the bed was empty.”

She blinked back tears. “I heard Cody crying and I grabbed my gun without thinking twice. I knew something was wrong, I _knew,_ and even before I opened the door to her room and saw him standing there over her crib, I think I also knew deep down what was going to happen.” She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the memory, but the image of his twisted features and predatory eyes still flashed behind her retinas, trapped with her.

But she pressed on anyway. “When he turned to face me, teeth bared and eyes black, I knew my husband was gone. I knew that the man…the _creature_ …standing there wouldn’t hesitate to kill me or Cody. So I didn’t hesitate either.”

She opened her eyes, letting the tears spill out as she met Clio’s gaze and confessed the truth she'd avoided speaking for six long years. “He lunged at me," she said, "so I put my gun to his head and pulled the trigger, right in front of my crying baby daughter.” The tears starting coming harder, interspersed with soft sobs she couldn't choke back.

Suddenly, before she'd even noticed that he'd moved, Clio was crouched down in front of her, a small cloth extended towards her.

She had no idea where the cloth had come from, but she took it from him and dabbed at her eyes, trying to pull herself together, grateful for that small act of kindness.

Clio stayed silent and still as she composed herself, letting her experience her grief and then fight against it, all the while watching her with his mismatched, unreadable eyes. There was no judgment there, no shock or horror, no disgust. There was only sympathy, hinted at so faintly in the depths of his hazel eye that Petra would have missed it if he hadn't been crouching so close to her.

After she finally managed to dry her eyes, she crumpled the cloth in her fist, fingers squeezing it for strength. It was damp to the touch, wet from her tears, and she stared at it for a long moment, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. It was silly, but it almost felt like she'd poured all her bottled up grief into the cloth and now it was separate from her, no linger clinging to her insides.

It was a good feeling, a catharsis she hadn't known she'd needed.

She exhaled, her eyes drifting up to meet Clio's. "You're the first person other than Levi who knows the whole story," she said. "I let everyone else believe that Auruo died out on the expedition he was scheduled to be on. I thought it would be easier that way, for Cody and for me."

"But it wasn't." Clio's words were soft.

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't. And neither was pretending that I wasn't a hunter, that I've never been one." She sagged slightly, hunching in on herself. "All this time - all these  _years_ \- I've just been running from my guilt, and when I met you, you reminded me of what happened to my husband and everything else I've tried so hard to forget and I... I took it out on you. Even after you protected my daughter, after you fed her and helped her and made her feel like she had a friend." The fresh guilt of that hit her, and Petra choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "God, you must think I'm an awful person."

"Hey."

Petra forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I was a hunter, too," he said. "Still am. And I've met enough bad people to know that you're not one of them."

"But I—"

He didn't let her finish. "You," he interrupted, "are a mother who was forced to do something terrible to protect her family. The _situation_ was awful, not you. You're just confusing the two, which is something people do all the time." He huffed lightly. "Trust me," he added, the words tinged with a slightly pained undertone, "I would know."

Petra's lips parted in surprised understanding, and for the first time, she saw Clio as he was: as a man. Not as half-breed, not as a hybrid, but as a human. 

What was it Cody had said to her that day she'd found the two of them out on guard duty by themselves? _"He's not so bad. And besides, he can't help the way he looks, right?"_

She almost colored in shame. It had taken mere minutes for her six-year-old daughter to figure that out, and here _she_ was, weeks later, just barely reaching that same conclusion herself.

 _Sometimes you're wiser than I am, Cody,_ she thought. _And much, much less jaded._ She hoped her daughter would stay that way.

Clutching the tear-soaked cloth a little tighter in her fist, Petra gave Clio a faint, sympathetic, genuine smile. "Yeah," she murmured, more to herself than to him, "I guess you would."

 

**

The dizziness was getting worse.

Mikasa had been fighting the feeling since they’d found water to rinse off in, and at first she’d been successful, managing to stave off the blackness threatening to close in, but now there were spots behind her eyes and a strange pressure in her head. As they traveled back up through the mine shafts, every upward stride was a battle, and it was all she could do just to focus on the Reaper’s back as he walked in front of her and avoid tripping over the rotting wooden rails they were using to navigate back to the mine entrance.

But even that was proving to be a challenge. Twice she lost her footing and stumbled, and a third time, when she veered to the side to avoid tripping over the tracks, she careened into an overturned mine cart.

That time, Levi halted ahead of her, turning back as she tried to steady herself against the cart’s frame. When he saw the way she was clutching at the old cart, he strode over to her, concern etched onto his features. “What happened?” He asked sharply.

Mikasa shook her head and then instantly regretted it as the motion caused a fresh wave of dizziness to wash over her. She gritted her teeth. “Nothing. I’m a little lightheaded but I’ll be okay.”

The Reaper snorted. “You really are the suffer in silence type, aren’t you?”

Mikasa frowned, blinking at him through the spots clouding her vision. “What?”

“You’ve been tripping around like a drunk for the better part of a mile, and now you’re crashing into mine carts like we’re navigating a fucking obstacle course. Why? Did you get injured down in the cavern?”

“No; it’s nothing like that.” She exhaled. “I…I’ve never used my ability for such an extended period of time before. I didn’t realize it would take so much out of me.”

Levi didn’t say anything for a long time, but when he finally did, Mikasa could hear the stiffness in his words. “Do you need blood?” He asked quietly.

She thought about saying yes—wanted to, badly. The thought of sinking her fangs into those fading marks on his neck, of pinning him to the floor of the mine shaft and drinking from him until all she could feel was the blissful high of his intoxicating blood… _oh_ , it made her stomach ache and her fangs throb. She was practically pining for another taste of him, and he was standing right in front of her, offering it to her. It would be so easy, so satisfying, to say yes.

But she couldn’t.

She knew that he hadn’t eaten anything in over a day, and she could see the fatigue around his eyes, the deepening circles that were proof of how little he’d slept. He was tired and dehydrated, not to mention that he’d been wounded during the fight. Taking his blood now – even though she needed it – was not an option.

So she swallowed against her hunger and reluctantly said, “I’m okay for now.”

To prove her point, she straightened and let go of the mine cart. She wobbled at the initial lack of support but managed to stay on her feet, determined not to falter.

Neither of them said anything more on the matter, and they began walking again, this time with Levi lingering a step or two behind her. Mikasa knew he was watching her, could feel his eyes on her back and hear his tacit disapproval as if he were shouting at her, but she ignored his presence entirely. She raised her chin and focused on walking, refusing to look back.

_Never show weakness. Even if you have the bleeds and are seconds from death, remain strong._

That tenet had been drilled into all of the warriors in her village from an early age, and it kicked in now like a primal instinct and she welcomed it. After all, her father had espoused that kind of perseverance all his life, and he’d certainly displayed it in the face of threats, so it was a small credit to his memory to stay strong now, to prove that even when she was weak, she still had strength within her.

And she was successful in doing so—right up until she stumbled again.

The Reaper could have caught her – he was a mere arm’s length away and she’d seen firsthand how quick his reflexes were – but he didn’t. He let her fall, and Mikasa hit the ground hard, hissing at the pain that lanced up her limbs as her knees and hands impacted the earth. Palms stinging, she rolled over and glared up at him, angry, though she wasn’t sure if she was angry with him or mad at herself.

He returned her stare, standing above her with his arms crossed and his head cocked, one eyebrow raised smugly. “Let me guess,” he said, voice low and cynical. “You’re fine.”

Mikasa took a calming breath before answering him. “I’m as fine as you are,” she said, looking pointedly at his bitten arm.

"Like hell you are." The smugness began to ebb from his face. “I might not be fine, but I’m still doing better than you,” he insisted. “After all, I’m not the one stumbling around like I just discovered how to use my legs.”

“No, you’re not. But you _are_ the one offering blood to a vampire while still bleeding from a fresh wound.” It was Mikasa’s turn to raise an insolent brow. “That’s not what I would call ‘fine’, Reaper; it’s what I would call stupid.”

“Huh.” His smugness was returning. “You know what I’d call stupid? Tripping over your own feet because you insist you’re too strong to need anyone else’s help.”

They could have kept going, could have continued to bicker until they were both blue in the face, but Mikasa put an end to it, biting back the retort on the tip of her tongue and choosing a path of less hostility.

“I was raised to not ask for help,” she admitted. “I was taught that it was necessary to rely on your own strength in order to survive.”

Levi didn't say anything right away, and for a minute there was nothing but silence hanging between them and the strange look in his eyes, a look that said he understood exactly what she was talking about.

“That makes two of us,” he said at length, and then he reached towards her, extending his hand.

The gesture took Mikasa completely by surprise. She didn’t react right away, just stared dumbly at his hand, undecided as to whether or not it was flesh and blood or just a figment of her imagination. Somehow, the latter seemed more likely.

But then the Reaper breathed a huff of impatience. “Oi,” he said, “Let’s go.”

The terse command propelled her to move, and Mikasa reached out and grasped his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“If you need to take a break, tell me,” he said, and she nodded.

This time, they walked side by side as they continued up the shaft, standing on either side of the old wooden rails. Though they hadn't discussed it, Levi slowed his pace considerably, and Mikasa was grateful for it. She rubbed unconsciously at her hand as they walked, lost in thought.

“Did they beat that into you during your training?” Levi asked suddenly.

Mikasa glanced over at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “Beat what into me?”

“What you said before—about being raised to rely on your own strength. Did you learn that during training?”

The furrow smoothed away. “Oh,” she said. “No. I mean, it was a principle that was taught in training, but I wasn’t a warrior. I learned it from my father.”

“You weren’t a warrior?” His tone was thick with incredulity. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you have no military training?”

“Not anything formal. I was permitted to go on a few raids with the warriors, but I wasn’t one of them.”

Levi came to a full stop and stared at her, his steel eyes full of disbelief. “Why the hell not? You’re as lethal as they come, and trust me, I’ve fought enough vampires to know.”

Mikasa ignored the faint swell of pride she felt at the unintended compliment. “I wasn’t a warrior because I was training to take my father’s place as Guardian. I spent most of my time at his side, learning. Each community only has one Guardian, so my father’s responsibilities were endless.” She paused, remembering. “I’m not sure I ever would have been ready to fill his shoes.”

_Not that I’ll ever know._

Her father was dead, her people were dead, and there would never be a need for another Guardian. There was no one left to protect.

Without really being aware of it, they had both resumed walking, and Mikasa was glad for it, because it meant she had an excuse to keep her gaze trained ahead of her as she blinked back her tears.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “So who taught _you_ that lesson?” She asked in an effort to distract herself from thoughts of her father. “I’ve never once seen you ask anyone else for help; you’re as conditioned as I am to rely on yourself.”

She looked over at him, but he was staring down at the rails, his eyes shadowed by his black bangs. “I learned that lesson on my own,” he said. There was a rawness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Kenny used to say ‘there ain’t nobody who can keep you alive but you’, but the message never really stuck. I had people I relied on, people I trusted.” She saw his throat work. “But Kenny was right all along.”

“You still have people you can rely on,” Mikasa said softly.

She spoke without thinking, only realizing the implication of that statement when Levi glanced up at her, his gaze a mixture of puzzlement and dubious curiosity.

“People like Ymir and Jean,” she hastened on. “And Petra and Clio.”

He gave a slow, noncommittal nod, but the look of mystification didn’t fade. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was—that if she wasn’t a vampire and they weren’t bound by an alliance forged on hatred and blackmail, that maybe, just maybe, her name would be on that list, too.

But neither of them would ever know the answer; she was a vampire, he was a Reaper, and the situation was what it was.

They lapsed back into silence after that, but it wasn’t strained or uncomfortable—it was almost companionable, a calm quiet that was only broken when, some many minutes later, they heard voices echoing down the mine shaft towards them. Familiar voices.

Mikasa looked up in surprise. She hadn’t realized they were so close, but there was no mistaking it: the mouth of the tunnel was just ahead, leading back to where the group was waiting for them.

She began walking with a new spring in her step, glad to be back, but Levi stopped a few yards before they would have been seen, hanging back.

“Mikasa."

She froze, the shock of hearing him say her name halting her steps instantly. Baffled, she turned to look at him.

“Don’t tell anyone about what we found down there,” he said. “They don’t need to know.”

Her frown of confusion deepened. “But they will," she stated. "They'll take one look at us and know something happened. Our clothes are covered in blood." The water had rinsed the gore from their skin, but their clothing hadn't been as easy to clean.

“Not necessarily. Dark stains could be anything: blood, dirt, mud…it's whatever we say it is.”

“And if they ask about your arm?” It wasn’t as if he could hide _that_.

But he was ready with an answer, as if he’d been anticipating the question. “I tore it up on that piece of shit generator when we were trying to turn it on.”

A burst of laughter drifted out from the cavern, the happy sound such a jarring contrast to their sober exchange that Mikasa almost flinched.

And suddenly, as the echoes of the laughter faded, she understood.

Levi was trying to protect them, to keep this one horrible truth from them because they had enough other horrible truths to deal with. He was bearing the burden so his people wouldn’t have to, just as he had shouldered the burden and killed the little girl so _she_ wouldn’t have to.

This time, though, he wouldn't have to bear the weight of it on his own.

"Okay," she conceded. "If you want that to be our story, then that will be our story."

"Good. Then it's settled." A glimmer of gratitude flitted across his face, gone so quickly that Mikasa almost missed it. Before she could process it, however, he was focused on the next item of business. "Any idea how long that generator will run without being refueled?" He asked. "I didn't think to ask you before."

Mikasa shook her head. "Not really. I don't know anything about generators; the only reason I knew how to turn it on was because I've seen others do it before."

"Well in that case, we'd better get a move on." He strode past her. "Let's get everyone up and moving," he called back to her without turning. "We went through a lot of trouble to get these lights on and I don't intend for us to be sitting on our asses when they go back out."

 _Neither do I,_ she thought.

She gave him a fractional head-start as he left the tunnel and entered the cavern, waiting until she heard cheers of _"It's Captain Levi!"_ and _"Cap's back!"_ before she followed after him.

Clio Jones was the only one who noticed her delayed arrival. "You okay?" He asked as she joined him by the far wall. The look in his hazel eye made it clear he already knew the answer.

Mikasa hesitated. It would have been so easy, so cathartic, to tell him what had happened, to purge herself of everything. And Clio was the ideal person to confide in: he was an outsider just like she was, and because of his almost eerie perception, it was obvious that he already sensed something was amiss. He would know that she was lying if she said everything was fine, which meant that she had the perfect excuse to tell him the truth.

But Levi had asked her not to, so instead of revealing their secrets, she kept them and avoided directly answering the question. "I'll feel better once we reach the other side of the mountain," she hedged.

Clio responded with a sardonic smile. "Nice evasion," he commented.

Mikasa blanched, chagrined that he had seen through her so easily. "I—"

He cut her off. "Don't worry about it. You'll fool anyone else who asks, but..." He tapped the side of his nose. " _This_ doesn't lie. I smelled the blood on you before I even saw you."

"Oh." Right. Of course he had smelled the blood on them. He was, after all, part vampire. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not trying to shut you out—especially not you. It's just that..." She trailed off, not sure what to say.

"Don't worry about it, Mikasa," he said again. "I'm sure you and Levi have your reasons for keeping whatever happened down there between yourselves." He paused. "Just like I'm sure you have your reasons for hiding the fact that you fed on him after the titan attack."

If it was physically possible for her face to get any paler, Mikasa was sure that it did in that moment. "You know about that?" She breathed.

Clio inclined his head. "Again," he said, "you can't fool the nose." He straightened up. "No one else knows, and I'm certainly not going to say anything. Your business is your business, and to be honest, I'm just genuinely glad that you two seem to be communicating and working together. It sets a good precedent for the group."

"Maybe." Mikasa glanced over to where Levi was giving orders to his subordinates. He was facing her, and after a moment he caught her gaze. She looked away. "Even if we are getting along better than we were," she murmured, "ours isn't a real alliance. Nothing can change that."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mikasa," Clio murmured back just as softly. Then, suddenly, his posture became more alert. "Captain," he said.

Mikasa looked up, straightening. She'd been so lost in their private conversation that she hadn't noticed the group gathering nearby. Or the fact that the Reaper was standing in front of her.

"You ready to get us the hell out of here?" He asked.

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"All right then." He stepped aside and gestured towards the far end of the cavern and the unexplored tunnels beyond. "Lead the way."

 

**

The storm raged for an entire day, and the downpour was so intense that Duro was forced to call a halt early on. Time, though, was of the essence, and he led his party forward a few hours later in spite of the fact that the wind was still howling and the rain was still billowing down in icy sheets. He lost one of his underlings when a tree uprooted by the storm came rolling down the mountainside, and another when they were much higher up on the mountain—the path was slick with mud and the scout’s footing gave way, sending him plummeting to his death. But those were the only losses. The rest of them – all eight of them plus the two large bears they’d brought with them – managed to traverse the mountain and make it safely down the other side.

Now they were gathered in front of the mouth of the cave, waiting.

And waiting.

As the daylight began to wane and the pelting rain lightened to an irksome drizzle, Duro gestured for his second-in-command. As unlikely as it seemed, it was possible that the humans had made it through the mountain faster than his group had made it across. If that were the case, they might have continued on to find shelter.

Not that it mattered; even if they were holed up somewhere, it wouldn't remain a shelter for very long. Not when Duro found them.

His underling came over as ordered, rainwater dripping from every grotesque angle of his face. He saluted.

Duro bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “Wait here. I will check the woods.” Normally, he would have sent someone else scouting, but this batch of imbeciles wouldn’t be up to the task. He would go himself, and double back once he was sure that the humans hadn’t somehow escaped past them.

He looked back towards the mouth of the cave and then around at his restless group. His subordinates were practically foaming at the mouth to kill something, and the chained, leashed bears were starving. If the humans were still in there and emerged while he was gone, Duro had no doubt that his party would know what to do.

Still, it was always better to leave nothing to chance.

He placed a clawed hand on his second’s shoulder. “If they come out,” he said, “slaughter them all.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and special thanks to all of the readers who left comments on the last chapter. I apologize that I didn't respond to them individually that time around, but know that each kind word means an incredible amount to me...especially since I've been feeling particularly self-conscious about everything I'm writing as of late... (so please keep commenting! I need all the encouragement I can get lol)


	8. Shifting Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is (finally)! I apologize for the lateness. I've been super busy, which is great news for my career but not such great news for my writing. Anyway, I tried to get this posted as quickly as I could, and I didn't do my usual painstaking read-through to catch errors/ typos. I will go back sometime over the next few days and edit as needed. 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this long-delayed update!

_If I chose to return now, after everything that has happened, you would all judge me harshly. But what would give you the right to? You haven't been where I've been, seen what I've seen, or experienced what I've experienced. The world is much larger than we think, and we are much smaller than we realize. There is no room for closed minds or hardened hearts once you leave the safety of the familiar. I have adapted because I was meant to, and I shall never be the same. There is no going back.  
_

\- Fragment taken from The Wanderer's recovered travel log, Vol. 2

**

 

There was light in the sky long before the sun rose, pale washes of color that bathed the predawn world in a muted haze, and clouds that had just enough gold reflected from the as yet unseen sun to promise that morning was on its way. And sure enough, after some uncounted number of minutes, the very top of the bright morning sun appeared on the horizon just like it always did, rising above the ridge of snow-capped mountains in the distance. It ascended slowly from its sleeping place like a lazy traveler just starting to awake, climbing upwards until its entire orb at last broke away from the line of mountains and rose higher—a literal beacon in the morning sky that shown warm and bright and suffused the valleys closer to Rose with a glow that made the dew all but shimmer on the grass.

It was a beautiful sight to behold, even through the heavy glass partition that separated the archive room in Rose’s eastern tower from the outside world. Dusty, cluttered, and seldom used, the archive room still remained one of the only spots in the entire Fortress that had windows, and the singular accessible place that provided an eastern view. There was no other place in all of Rose where someone could witness a sunrise, and so most of her citizens hadn’t seen one in years. In fact, the closest thing to sunlight they had in Rose was the garish fluorescent lighting installed throughout all of her inhabited floors.

So witnessing a sunrise firsthand should have been a joyous experience –a rarity truly savored – and yet the magnificence of the bright dawn barely even registered to Historia Reiss as she looked out from Rose’s high eastern tower. Instead of watching the way the sunlight was awakening the land around the fortress, she was staring past the rising sun at the mountains beyond, and even further beyond that, towards a place she couldn’t see and wouldn’t ever get the chance to. To a place…and a person… now lost to her forever.

The sun might continue to rise like it always did, but Historia Reiss wasn’t sure that her heart ever would again.

_Maria has fallen. The fortress is lost._

She closed her eyes to prevent the tears from spilling out, knowing that if she started crying, there would be no way to stop. Five years of guilt and hope and yearning were roiling inside of her, mixed with a loss so acute it was all she could do to breathe without being suffocated by it.

A gentle, quiet voice broke her reverie.

“Historia?”        

She turned, her grief waning momentarily as she saw her childhood friend standing by the door. He looked tired, drawn; there were lines on his young face she didn’t remember seeing before, and ashy circles under his wise blue eyes.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night.

“Armin,” she greeted him. She tried to give him a small smile but failed, too disheartened to even muster the energy for that simple gesture.

He navigated his way through piles of scattered files that littered the ground until he came to stand beside her. She avoided making eye contact, instead choosing to stare back out the window. She wasn’t ready for him to see the pain and defeat in her eyes yet, even though she was fairly certain he could already sense that she wasn’t okay.

Perceptive as ever, though, Armin didn’t ask her anything right away. He stared out the window for a long moment with her in silence, respecting her unspoken wish.

“I’m sorry to intrude on your privacy,” he said first. “I always come here when I can’t sleep or when I need time to think and don’t want to be disturbed. I didn’t think anyone would be up here.”

It was the same reason she’d sought out the archives. The space used to be reserved solely for the Reaper histories, but with the almost complete dissolution of the Scouting Legion three years earlier, the archives had become a dumping ground for all the files, mission reports, and records the government had decided were no longer important. The once orderly, well-tended archive room was now in such a state of disarray that it was no longer even included on Rose’s maps anymore.

“You’re not intruding, Armin,” she responded kindly, meaning it. “Out of everyone here, you’re one of the only true friends I have. Your company is always welcome.”

The smile she hadn’t been able to conjure ghosted over his lips. “The feeling is mutual, Historia, believe me. I only wish there were more like-minded people here.” He paused for a minute, and then finally asked the question she’d been dreading. “They decided against a rescue mission, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” It physically hurt her to say it, the word burning like acid as it left her throat. “In a matter of minutes, actually,” she added bitterly. “It was one of the shortest council meetings we’ve ever had.”

Armin shook his head, lips tightening. “What happened?”

“As usual, we have my father to thank.” _My cowardly father and his ruthless ambition,_ she added silently to herself. She was well aware of what her father's intentions and motivations had been going in to the meeting. Governor Reiss was no stranger to manipulation, and he was power hungry. With Maria and her leaders out of the way, he would have that much more control over the remainder of the human race. Rescuing other figures of authority from Maria and bringing them back to Rose would gain him nothing except more adversaries. 

Her shoulders slumped forward. “It was awful, Armin. Instead of discussing the news about Maria as a matter of state, he opened the meeting like he was giving a eulogy. He mourned the loss of the stronghold and our fellow citizens and then spoke about how we need to carry on their legacy as a tribute to their memory.” Her anger bubbled up anew as she relived the moment in her head. “He deliberately set the tone he did to discourage support for any rescue mission, and it worked. He played on the Council’s emotions and then gave his definitive vote. The other nobles were quick to agree with him.”

Armin’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at her. “That still doesn’t explain why the rescue mission was tabled,” he said. “I was expecting your father to vote against taking action, but what about Erwin and Kai? I can’t imagine either of the commanders would push the motion through, and without at least one of them in support of your father, no decision could have been reached.”

It was that same hope that Historia had been counting on. In the past, Erwin and Kai had put a stop to some of her father’s worst ideas, and she had assumed the same would happen at this council meeting—that they would both see how imperative it was to send aid to Maria and prevent her father and the nobles from abandoning the other fortress.

But she’d been wrong.

“Erwin voted in favor of conducting a rescue expedition,” she said. “He even brought detailed charts and plans with him and volunteered to lead the mission himself. But it didn’t make any difference.” She clenched her fists in anger. “As soon as Kai had the floor, she sided with my father and the matter was settled.”

Armin stared at her in baffled shock. “Did she give a reason?”

Historia shook her head. “No. She barely said anything at all aside from stating that she was not in favor of sending anyone on a – as she put it – ‘futile suicide mission’.” She blinked back tears. “It’s over, Armin. There isn’t going to be a rescue mission. Even if there are survivors at Maria, they’re lost to us.”

She was shaking, her tenuous grasp on her emotions frayed to the breaking point. It was only Armin’s calming hand on her shoulder that pulled her back from the brink, that prevented her from falling to pieces.

She leaned into his touch, breathing deeply. “I always thought Ymir and I would find our way back to each other,” she confessed, gazing out towards the far horizon. “Even though we’ve been separated since Year Zero, I never let go. I wrote her so many letters…” She trailed off, regret crashing over her. “I should have sent them.”

Armin squeezed her shoulder. “You were leading by example,” he said. “We’ve never had enough ravens to carry both official and personal documents—you know that as well as I do. All you are guilty of is upholding the laws we have and putting your duty before your personal needs.”

“I know that,” she answered, “but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I wish…” She bit her lip. What good would wishing do? Time wasn’t something you could rewrite simply by wishing you’d done things differently. Her past decisions were set in stone. She’d never sent her letters and Ymir would never read them.

Armin’s hand fell away from her shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with Kai,” he said. “Maybe it isn’t too late to change her mind.”

Distress of a different nature pooled in Historia’s stomach at that announcement. “What?” She gasped. “You know what she’s like, Armin. She won’t change her mind. Seeking her out will only put you at risk for no reason.”

“Kai may be stubborn and hotheaded, but she’s not a fool or a killer. She won’t harm me.”

“No, but her guards might. Or my father, if he finds out that you’re trying to interfere.” She stepped closer to him. “Please, Armin. You’re one of the brightest minds Rose has left. Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger. We’ve lost so much already. The Legion, Maria..." She stopped before adding Dr. Zoe's name to the list, mostly because she knew Armin was still hoping for his mentor and colleague to make a full recovery in spite of what the doctors were saying. "With everything that's happening," she amended,  "we can’t afford to lose you, too.”

“Which is exactly why I have to speak with Kai,” he countered gently. “If there’s a chance we can save Maria, we need to do everything in our power to seize it.”

She wanted to argue with him. Badly. But she couldn’t. Historia was Armin’s friend, but she was a diplomat first, and she understood why – in spite of the inherent risk – he was right. It was also the reason she didn’t offer to go with him; if they went together, Kai would feel that she was being ganged-up on and they would get nowhere. Armin would have a better chance persuading her to rethink her stance in a one-on-one dialogue.

So she gave a soft sigh and reached for his hand. “Okay,” she conceded. “Just be careful. Kai’s always been…unpredictable.”

Armin nodded. “I promise I will,” he replied.

“Then good luck,” she said, giving his hand a tender squeeze before releasing it.

“Thank you, Historia.” He gave her a parting smile before heading back towards the door. Instead of leaving immediately, though, he paused, catching her eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. “I know it’s been unduly long since we’ve spent time together without having matters of state to discuss, but my door’s still always open.” He scratched at the back of his neck, a hint of his boyish shyness returning. “You know what I mean,” he added quietly. “If you ever just need a friend, I’m here.”

She almost took him up on his offer right then, more than tempted to just throw herself in his arms and let him comfort her while she cried. Five years ago, she would have done that without thinking, but things were different now. She wasn’t a timid little girl anymore. Being thrust into a leadership role while her father had been ill had changed her. She’d thrived and blossomed despite the struggles and stress of the job, and even now, with her father back in control, she was still viewed as one of Rose’s most important, outspoken voices. She couldn’t afford to cry on a friend’s shoulder. She had to stay strong.

So instead of running to him, she offered him the warmest smile she could. “Thank you, Armin,” she said, “but I’ll be all right. Go do what you need to do.”

She turned back to the window as he left, gazing once more into the distance as possibilities whirled in her mind.

Maybe Armin would convince Kai. Maybe the mission would happen and maybe it would be a success. Maybe there would be survivors from Maria and maybe Ymir would be one of them. But even if she wasn’t…

Historia pressed her hand against the glass. _I will never forget about you, Ymir,_ she vowed. _Even if we never see each other again, I will still hold on to you. Even if you’re gone._

“But please,” she breathed aloud, “ _please_ be alive.”

           

**

After two days of living in relative darkness and breathing nothing but the dank, stale air of the mountain’s cave systems, the gust of cold wind that blew in from the mouth of the tunnel ahead was a welcome change. It was chilled and it stung as it made contact with Levi’s skin, but it was crisp and fresh and if he hadn’t been so fucking exhausted he would have smiled.

In fact, his lips were already tugging upwards in spite of his fatigue when Mikasa came to a sudden halt in front of him.

He stopped too, bringing up a hand to signal to the group behind them. “What is it?”

Mikasa turned to face him. “Titans,” she said, “and something else. I can’t tell what it is.”

Levi scowled. Of course it was fucking titans.

“Do you want me to scout ahead and see what’s there?”

Levi shook his head. Any other time, he would have taken her up on her offer, but Mikasa looked like she was ready to collapse into her own grave. Her porcelain skin was erring to the unhealthy side of translucent, the veins beneath her eyes were darker and more pronounced than usual, and her whole frame seemed gaunt—as if she’d been slowly losing blood over the last two days.

Resilient or not, she was certainly not in any kind of shape to be pushing herself. He motioned for Clio.

Seconds later, the hybrid materialized at his side.

“Go scout ahead,” he said. “Find out what we’re up against.”

Clio’s mismatched eyes shifted from Levi to Mikasa and back again, and then he nodded and took off towards the mouth of the cave.

Levi waited to speak until Clio disappeared around the bend. “Are you all right?” He asked at length. “You don’t look well.”

Mikasa stared at him for a moment before giving him a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll be okay,” she hedged. “Using my ability the other day was more taxing than I thought it would be, but I’ll recover.”

“On your own?”

It was clear from the way Mikasa looked away that she knew what he was implying. She swallowed. “I might…I might need blood.”

He’d already assumed as much, but before he could tell her that they’d figure something out, Clio Jones reappeared.

“There are seven titans and two bears,” he relayed, careful to keep his voice low.

Levi blinked. “Two what?”

“Bears,” the hybrid confirmed. “You heard me right. They’re large and feral-looking, and they’re leashed at the moment, but I have a feeling that will change when we show up.”

“All right.” Levi took a breath and turned towards the civilians.

They were all staring at him, some with fear, others with numb expectancy.

“We’re in for a fight,” he said. “There’s a group of titans waiting for us outside and they have two bears with them.” There was a flurry of exclamations at that, but Levi barreled ahead. “It’s going to be dangerous, but we have to get past them. We don’t have a choice. It’s either fight our way through or starve to death under this mountain and we're sure as shit not doing that. So we'll fight.” He paused, scanning the crowd. “Petra, Ymir, and Jean—I need you,” he said. “And Braus,” he added, remembering that she was the one with the bow.

He waited until they stepped forward before continuing. “When we get to the mouth of the cave, we will lead the offensive. The rest of you need to have your weapons out and make a stand inside. Form a barrier by the exit and hold it. Understood?”

The scattered nods and half-hearted _yes, Captains_ he received weren’t exactly inspiring, but it was the best he could hope for given the circumstances. They were tired, malnourished, and none of them were trained to cope with the struggles they'd endured. They were doing the best they could, and Levi couldn't ask them to do more than that. And he couldn't let them die under the mountain; at the very least, they deserved to see the sun again.

He turned towards his gathered group, sizing them up out of habit while an echo of Kenny’s voice laughed in his head.

_An ex-soldier, two trainees, a civilian, a hybrid, and a vampire...not exactly your most intimidating group, is it, short stuff? Nothin’ but odds and ends and misfits._

Levi scowled even though the mocking voice wasn’t actually speaking. Real or not, Kenny’s ghost could go fuck himself.

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do. Clio and Petra will lead the attack on the titans. Jean and Ymir—you’ll back them up. Braus, Mikasa, and I will deal with the bears.”

The brown-haired girl gulped. “Me?” She squeaked.

Levi didn’t have time to soothe her nerves. “I’ve seen you use that bow,” he said. “You’re good. Stay at a safe distance and aim for vital organs. The vampire will cover you. I’ll slow the bears down and kill them if I can.” He paused. “Everyone clear?”

There were nods of assent all around.

“Good. Let’s go.”

The wind was stronger once they rounded the last bend, and it carried a few flurries with it, dusting over them like a fine white powder that left Levi feeling chilled to the bone. He brushed the snow off before it could melt through his shirt, and then he unsheathed the machetes hanging from his hips, flipping the blades so that they faced down. The others followed suit, arming themselves as they marched towards the cave entrance.

When they were about ten feet away, Levi stopped and turned to the civilians. “Form your line here,” he said. “Keep anyone who isn’t strong enough to fight behind it. And hold it at all costs.”

Then he turned forward again, shifting into a fighting stance. “Ready?” He asked.

Mikasa nodded at his side. “Ready,” she answered, fangs fully extended.

Levi tightened his grip around his blades and charged.

He heard the others follow after him, heard someone shout out a battle cry – probably Kirchstein – and then they were outside, with the blue sky above and a carpet of white covering the forest around them.

Levi blinked rapidly, eyes still adjusting to the brightness when the first titan charged him. He spun around, whipping his blades in two parallel arcs as he did so. The top one caught the titan across the throat and the second sliced through its abdomen, disemboweling it. It was dead before it hit the ground.

Levi caught a flash of Clio’s katana from the corner of his eye and saw a head go rolling seconds later, but there was no time to admire the hybrid’s skill because a heartbeat later Levi was face to face with one of the titans’ shackled bears.

Only it was no longer leashed, and it was eyeing him with a mixture of hunger and bloodlust as it pawed the ground. Levi flicked the blood off of his blades and relaxed into a fighting stance, gauging how far he would have to swerve to the left to avoid the lash of claws while still staying in range to sink his blade into the meaty tendons of the creature’s foreleg.

And then he saw the other bear, coming at him from the left.

Levi’s eyes widened. As good as he was, there was no way he could take out two bears of this size on his own, especially not from the ground.

“Mikasa!” He shouted, her name flying from his lips like a reflex.

She was there instantly, Braus close at her heels, Clio appearing a fraction of a second later.

Levi pointed at the bear approaching from the left. “Braus, get an arrow in that thing. Clio, cover her.”

The last statement was unnecessary, for the hybrid had already shifted defensively in front of Sasha.

Levi spared the girl's shaking hands one glance before turning away, hoping that she would be able to get her nerves under control long enough to land a kill shot or that Clio would be able to take down the beast on his own.

“Give me one of your blades,” the vampire said suddenly in his ear.

Levi didn’t even hesitate. He saw the way her eyes were scrunched up in focus, and he had a feeling she was thinking the same thing that he was thinking.

He tested out the theory. “Take the left?”

She nodded. “Tendons first?”

“Yes. Now!”

They charged the bear in perfect synchronicity—Levi on the right, Mikasa on the left.

The creature bared its teeth and pawed the ground, eyes darting between its two opponents before finally settling on Mikasa. It lunged towards her, taking a swipe at her with one of its giant paws, but Mikasa was faster, bending beneath the attacking limb in a graceful bow and coming up behind it. She slashed at its hind leg with her blade, severing the tendon behind its knee at the same moment Levi sliced through the matching tendon behind its other knee.

The bear roared in pain and pitched backward, crumpling onto its useless hind legs as blood sprayed from the wounds onto the white dusting of snow on the ground. It landed belly-up with a resounding thud, still roaring thunderously.

Levi jumped out of range of its snapping jaws and twirled his blade, angling it so that its tip was aimed just behind its foreleg, and then he thrust it forward in one decisive motion, piercing through hair and skin and muscle and puncturing the bear’s lung.

The bear uttered a broken growl and stilled.

For a second, Levi was confused; there was no way a single blow to the lungs would kill the creature so quickly. But then he realized that Mikasa was standing next to him, her own blade just slightly lower than his and pressed in deeper, almost to the hilt.

She saw him eyeing her handiwork. “Lungs and heart,” she commented, her words lacking any inflection. "It never stood a chance."

Levi nodded, watching the way the light wind whisked strands of her black hair across her face as she stood poised beside him, otherwise motionless.

_We make a good team._

The thought came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t followed by the chagrin or denials he was expecting. Maybe it was because he’d grown used to her, because he’d seen her in action enough times to know that she would have made a damn fine Reaper if she’d been born human, and that even though she wasn’t, even though she was his mortal enemy, she was still an invaluable asset. Maybe it was something else. But whatever the reason, he legitimately respected her abilities, and he didn’t mind teaming up with her. He didn’t mind at all. She attacked and reacted without prompting, and her instincts in battle were very similar to his.

So fuck it. Yes, she might be a vampire, but they _did_ make a good team.

“Levi.”

The sharpness of her tone pulled him back to the present, and he whipped his head up, pulling his blade free of the bear’s carcass as he did so, Mikasa copying him.

The second bear was still alive, and it was coming towards them.

It was obvious Clio had done it considerable damage—there were slashes and deep lacerations all over its body, some so angry they seemed to be weeping blood. But this bear was larger than the one they’d just taken down. Much larger. It would take more than brute strength and speed to kill it.

Levi braced himself, preparing for another fight.

But suddenly Clio Jones was there, waving his katana above his head in an ostentatious display that immediately drew the bear’s attention.

“That’s right, Big Black,” the hybrid said, voice booming. “Look at me.”

There was no fear on his face as the creature stopped in its tracks and veered towards him. He just stood there, waving his weapon, his mismatched eyes fixed on the approaching bear.

Levi started towards him, Mikasa at his side, even though he knew - he _knew_ \- they wouldn't make it there in time.

But they didn't need to.

A split second before the raging creature reached him, Clio kneeled down and extended his blade, and two things happened in lightning fast succession.

First, the bear speared itself onto the blade and reared in pain, standing on its hind legs, its claws flailing dangerously close to the top of Clio’s head.

Second, Sasha Braus, who had been completely concealed behind Clio’s larger frame, loosed the arrow that was notched in her bow, letting it fly at pointblank range. It sailed fast and sure straight through the bear’s left eye, skewering its brain.

For a suspended moment, nothing happened. And then the bear took a step, wobbled, and began to fall.

Launching into action, Clio freed his katana, threw it to the side, then spun around and caught Braus by the waist, hauling her out of the way just as the bear came crashing down where they’d been standing.

Sasha gaped in astonishment and then threw her arms around the hybrid, hugging him. “We’re alive!”

Clio chuckled. “Of course we are, Braus. Told you it would work.”

“ _That_ was fucking awesome!” Jean exclaimed, coming up to stand beside them. He was bloody but appeared otherwise unharmed, and Levi let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he saw that Petra and Ymir were okay, too. The titans and bears were dead, and somehow, all of his people were still alive.

He caught Mikasa smiling out of the corner of his eye and turned.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m relieved too,” she said. “I didn’t think that would go as smoothly as it did. But we won, and we didn’t lose anyone.”

Levi’s brows rose slightly at her use of _we,_ but instead of commenting on it, he simply agreed. “Yeah,” he said with a short sigh, “we got lucky this time.”

Mikasa shrugged and handed his blade back to him. “I wouldn’t say it was all luck,” she murmured.

A chorus of cheers broke out from the cave before he could reply, and all at once the civilians came pouring out, running up and hugging those that had won the battle.

Uncomfortable with the sudden amount of affection, Levi stepped back, letting the people enjoy their moment of happiness. Even though he wasn’t feeling particularly ebullient, it had been a long time since something had gone in their favor and he wasn’t about to spoil their enthusiasm.

Clio Jones appeared at his side a moment later, a pensive look on his face. “I did a head count on this titan group,” he said, “and the numbers don’t add up. Excluding the bears, there are only seven bodies.”

Levi frowned. It wasn’t a good omen, but it wasn’t necessarily indicative of a problem. “Their numbers might have been affected by the storm,” he mused. “If they crossed the mountain while we were under it, they would have been completely exposed to the elements.” He paused, regarding the hybrid’s tight-lipped expression. “But you don’t agree, do you?”

“I don’t. Something doesn’t feel right about it.”

Levi wasn’t about to disregard the hybrid’s uncanny sense of intuition. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Clio crossed his arms. “For one, there didn’t seem to be a leader. All of the raiding parties we’ve encountered so far have clearly had someone in charge. This one didn’t. These titans all attacked at once, without any kind of formation. It wasn’t organized.” He ran a hand through his hair, the furrow between his brows deepening. “But they clearly had an organized plan _prior_ to this attack. Think about it, Captain: they had the wherewithal to track us to the mountain, seal us inside of it, and then wait to ambush us at the other end, all while leading two large, feral bears with them. So why was their attack so easy to overcome? Judging by all other aspects, we should have encountered much more of a fight than the one we got.”

_He’s right._

Levi exhaled in agitation. What Clio was saying made terrible, ominous sense, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that other titans might still be tracking them.

He came to a decision. “All right. Once we make camp tonight, I want you to double back and do a sweep of the surrounding area. Make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll cover your watch while you’re gone.”

He was exhausted, and it wouldn’t be ideal to take double watch after the strain of the past few days, but he had no choice. The group’s safety came first.

The hybrid nodded. “Will do, Captain,” he said, and then he offered a parting salute and walked away.

Levi watched him go, idly noticing once again how inexplicably clean Clio seemed to be compared to the blood-spattered shape the rest of them were in.

And yet as bad as he and all the other humans looked, there was still a glaring contrast between them and Mikasa.

She had moved off to the side when Clio had come over, but she hadn’t drifted away. She caught him looking at her and returned his stare.

“You heard all that?” Levi asked.

She hesitated, then nodded.

Good. It would save him the trouble of relaying it later. He walked over to her so he could speak without the chance of being overheard. “Meet me tonight during Clio’s watch. I’ll give Jean the night off, so it will just be the two of us.” He lowered his voice when her expression turned wary. “Don’t argue with me,” he said. “You can put on a strong front for the others, but I can spot bullshit a mile away. You need blood and I’m willing to give you mine. Neither of us has to be happy about it, but it is what it is and we’re going to deal with it.”

It took Mikasa so long to answer that Levi could almost taste the drawn-out space between each second. “Yes,” she said finally. “It is what it is.” She glanced briefly at his throat before her gaze dropped. “I’ll meet you tonight,” she said as she walked away.

Levi stood there for a moment, gaze shifting from Mikasa to the hazy white sky above. He let out a long sigh, which morphed into a shiver as the reality of the current temperature seeped back into his skin.

 _Time to get everyone moving,_ he thought wearily as he began walking towards the group. It wouldn’t be good if they were still searching for shelter when nighttime came and the temperature dropped even further. They needed to get moving now, while they still had a few hours of daylight left.

So much for enjoying that moment of happiness.

 

**

Armin did his best to ignore the onslaught of baleful stares and whispers as he made his way through the military wing, keeping his gaze focused resolutely ahead of him. He had no intention of engaging any of the soldiers in what would undoubtedly become a hostile encounter; he had an objective and he planned to stick to it.

Still, it was hard to keep his mask of indifference in place when some of the fouler commentary reached his ears. Even though it was no secret that the Police had little love for members of the old Legion, he hadn’t expected – as a scientist who hadn’t been involved in any field missions – that their antagonism would be directed at him or be so blunt.

Then again, subordinates took cues from their leaders, and Kai was anything but charitable when it came to her opinions of most people, so maybe their behavior wasn’t that surprising after all. Armin could only hope that Kai’s mood would not be as negative when he spoke with her.

The door to the commander’s receiving room was shut when he reached it, and Armin took a mental breath before he reached up and knocked.

Seconds later, it creaked open, revealing a tall, thin man with skin as brown as coffee beans. He gave Armin a contemptuous once-over with his dark eyes and raised a brow. “What do you want?”

Armin wasted no time getting to the point. “I’m here to speak with Commander Ramirez,” he said. “It’s a matter of urgency. Is she here?”

“Perhaps.”

Armin was in no mood for games, but if he lost his temper, he would no doubt get the door slammed in his face. So he kept his anger in check and tried again. “May I please speak with her, if she is? As I said, this—”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Knock it off, Samar,” a muffled voice called from inside. “Let the man in.”

Samar gave Armin one last disapproving scowl and stepped aside, allowing Armin to pass.

The room was sparsely furnished and looked almost empty in comparison to Erwin’s receiving room. Instead of rows of bookshelves bowing under the weight of the tomes resting on them, there was only one tucked in the corner and it was half empty. No charts or maps were fixed to the walls, and there was no rug spread out to add color or warmth to the room. There were armchairs, tables, a few desks with thin stacks of paperwork on them, and a poker table at the far end of the room where three soldiers were playing a game. It looked much more like a recreational room than a military receiving room, with one glaring exception: Commander Kai Ramirez herself.

She was standing in the center of the room, her presence unmistakable. She was the youngest military commander in history (a record held previously by Erwin), but even though she was two years’ Armin’s junior, everything about her bespoke someone much older. Her countenance was serious to the point of being grave – it was rumored that she never smiled and Armin was inclined to believe it – and her dark brown eyes had a somber depth to them that could only be gained by loss and living through life’s harshest lessons. She was dressed in a sleeveless, belted black tunic which showed off her toned, tattooed arms, and loose-fitting black pants, a severe ensemble that did nothing to soften her natural austerity. And the crowning touch was her hair: half of it was hanging in loose waves past her shoulder but the other half was pinned against her head in an array of tight braids, an homage to the way the Reapers of Damon’s time had worn their hair. All in all, she struck an imposing, almost frightening figure, and Armin was only glad that her trademark volatility seemed to be absent at the moment.

Her full lips turned down in a frown as he came to stand before her. “Dr. Arlert,” she greeted, making no effort to infuse her voice with any semblance of civility. “Why are you here?”

He inclined his head respectfully before answering her blunt question with similar directness. “Commander Ramirez,” he said. “I wish to speak with you about a matter of state.”

One of her arched brows rose towards her forehead. “Which matter?”

Armin lowered his voice slightly, not wishing to be overheard by the other soldiers in the room. “The matter discussed at last evening’s Council meeting.”

“That's been settled.”

“Not fully,” he pressed. “There is still a window of time in which a vote could be changed.”

“Which I have no intention of doing.”

“Please, Commander,” Armin interjected, beginning to fear that Historia had been right. “At least here me out. I merely wish to present you with an alternate viewpoint. You may choose to regard or disregard my opinion as you see fit. I only ask that you do me the kindness of listening to what I have to say.”

Kai stared back at him in silence for a drawn-out moment, lips pursed. Then, at last, she nodded. “Fine.” She turned to the soldiers playing at poker in the corner. “I need the room,” she said, raising her voice slightly.

She didn’t have to say anything else or elaborate as to why; the soldiers immediately put down their cards and hurried out, each giving their commander a parting salute as they did so.

“You too, Samar,” she said, addressing the man still standing by the door behind Armin. Then she turned to a figure Armin had not noticed sitting in one of the chairs against the wall. “And you, Brianne.”

The woman rose slowly, sheathing the small dagger she’d been twirling through her fingers as she did so. She was black as coal with eyes to match, and with her smooth, shaved head and the wicked scar bisecting her left cheek, she managed to cut an even more dangerous figure than Kai. As she moved forward, she stared at Armin with a look that suggested she was calculating how quickly she would be able to take out one of his eyes with her dagger.

“Go, Brianne,” Kai insisted once she realized how reluctant her subordinate was to leave. “You may wait outside the door if it puts you at ease, but I don’t think Dr. Arlert has any intention of harming me. He’s much too clever a man to try something so stupid.” There was aplomb in her tone, but no trace of arrogance. “He’s only here to talk.”

Brianne didn’t seem mollified by that, but she apparently wasn’t one to argue with her superior. With a final, withering glare, she brushed by Armin – intentionally jostling him as she passed by – and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Kai remained standing once they were alone. “Okay, Dr. Arlert. You have my attention. Say whatever it is you came to say.”

“I believe it is a huge mistake not to undertake a rescue mission to Maria,” he said, launching right to the crux of the matter. “I don’t know your reasons for siding with Governor Reiss, but I can assure you that his motivations for voting as he did were personal and short-sighted. With Maria’s leaders out of the way, he will gain nearly as much power as Chief Commander Zacklay, which is what he has wanted for years. His ambition has eclipsed his humanitarianism.”

“I know what kind of man Reiss is,” Kai commented, “and usually I do not side with him—as you well know. However, in this instance, I agreed with his decision...albeit for different reasons.”

“And which reasons are those?” Armin challenged. “By preventing a rescue mission, we are effectively condemning any and all of Maria’s remaining citizens to death. They will not be able to survive in a besieged fortress for long, and every day we waste means a bleaker chance for them.”

“For all we know, there are no survivors anyway.”

“Assuming that is a cowardly excuse for not sending help.”

Kai’s eyes flashed. “Cowardly?” She echoed.

“Yes,” he repeated. “Cowardly.” Armin could sense her anger beginning to build, but he wasn’t about to stop; he was finally getting a reaction out of her, and if he could channel her emotions the way he wanted, he might just be able to change her mind.

“We have the manpower to undertake a mission like this, and if there is any chance at all that some of Maria’s citizens are still alive, we owe it to them as fellow human beings to do everything within our power to help them. And even if no one is alive, we _still_ need to go. You read the message from Maria, so you know how brief it was. Nothing was explained. We don’t know what really happened, or why, or how extensive the attack was, and we need those answers.” He paused. “Even if you think it is a waste of time to rescue possible survivors, I’m sure you’d agree that discovering what happened and seeing the damage is important. If a titan attack was truly bad enough to decimate an entire fortress, we need to know the nature of it in order to fortify our own defenses and take the necessary steps to ensure that it does not happen here as well. Supporting a rescue mission is as much a benefit to Rose as it would be to Maria—maybe even more so.”

“You’re right.”

Armin’s mouth opened in shocked surprise. “So you agree?”

“Yes. But I still have no intention of changing my vote.”

He swallowed against the crushing weight of her answer. “Commander,” he endeavored, choking back his frustration, “I’m not sure I—”

Kai cut him off. “Allow me to explain. Like Erwin, you are looking at the big picture and failing to see everything else. I’m not. This rescue mission you want so badly would be comprised of _my_ soldiers, men and women who are not equipped to handle a long range mission beyond the walls. Most of them were new recruits when the Police was formed, not members of the Legion. They don’t have proper combat training to deal with vampires and titans, and they certainly don’t have the field experience. And even the soldiers who were in the Legion and have traveled beyond the walls still haven’t seen combat in five years. Your proposed rescue mission would be more like a suicide mission, Dr. Arlert, and I refuse to let my soldiers take part in it.”

“From what I understand,” Armin responded, “Commander Erwin would be willing to lead the mission himself and take what remains of the active Legion forces with him. Your soldiers would have good leadership and guidance, and they would be working alongside soldiers with years of experience under their belt.”

“Yes, and many of them would still die. Even Erwin – brilliant strategist that he may be – cannot presume to know what the world is like now. Five years is a long time, and I’m not willing to gamble lives against the unknown.”

“And we may pay dearly for your myopic viewpoint in the future, perhaps in the form of an attack on our own fortress. Your desire to save lives may end up costing them.”

“That is a risk I’m more willing to take than the one you propose. And with the time and resources we save by not undertaking a mission, we can bolster our defenses here and expand the soldiers’ training so that we are more prepared if and when an attack on Rose takes place.”

“You can never prepare fully for something you don’t understand, Commander.”

“And yet being fully prepared does not always equate to victory." A divot appeared between her eyes. "Trust me," she added, and there was a little more gravel in her voice than there had been before. "I know that better than most.”

Armin did not miss the underlying meaning behind that sentiment. “I don't doubt that," he said, as gently as he could. "What happened to your family was a tragedy, Commander—a true and terrible loss. But you cannot use that loss as your basis for all future decisions. I’m sure that if your sister—”

“ _Don’t_.” The word was venom, and Armin could nearly feel the temperature drop in the room. “Don’t you dare speak of my sister, or my brother, or any member of my family.” She stepped towards him, hands balling into tight fists at her sides. “Do you think that because they would have agreed with you that you can somehow use them as leverage to change my mind?” Her eyes flashed with malice. “They are _dead_ because of the risks they took. I lost my entire family to the Legion and its ideals, and for what? _Nothing_ is better. They died for no reason.”

Before Armin had time to react, Kai grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close. “So, Dr. Arlert,” she hissed, her voice a barely contained storm, “my answer is no. I refuse to lose any more people to pointless causes.” She released him so violently that he stumbled back a pace. “Take your righteous ideals and get out. We’re done here.”

Armin didn’t even bother to respond. In the face of her rage, words would be futile. He’d lost this battle, and as difficult as that was to swallow, he had no choice but to accept it.

But as he was opening the door, Kai called out to him.

“Oh, and Dr. Arlert?”

He kept his hand on the doorknob but glanced warily back at her.

“I know that you’ve been questioning my soldiers about Dr. Zoe. Stop. What happened to your colleague had nothing to do with any of _my_ people.”

Her emphasis on the possessive stopped Armin in his tracks. “What are you insinuating?” He asked, perturbed.

“That maybe you should take a more careful look at your own people before you start interrogating everyone else. I think you’ll find the culprit you seek is closer to home than you think.”

And with that, she turned her back on him, and Armin had no choice but to go. He left the receiving room and walked back the way he'd come, deaf to the whispers that followed him, his mind a cloud of defeat and troubling questions.

 

**

Sasha had been beaming all day long, ever since she and Clio had taken down the bear.

It had been terrifying, yeah, but it had also been exhilarating, and getting cheered and applauded like a champion afterwards had made her feel like she could conquer the world.

And then, later, as they’d starting heading for yet another outpost, she’d managed to shoot down four birds – which were now being cooked for dinner – and if her mood had been in the clouds before, it was in the stars now. Today she was Sasha Braus the resident badass, and she liked the way it felt. She liked it a lot.

There was only one problem: Connie. He’d been quiet and sulky all day long and she had no idea why. She thought he’d be basking in the excitement with her—joking and laughing and teasing like he always did when one of them succeeded at doing something cool. Instead, he was bordering on taciturn.

An hour or so after dinner, when they’d reached the next outpost and people were starting to settle down for the night, Sasha had finally had enough of his sour mood and her frustration tipped over into exasperation.

She marched up and nudged him in the arm. “Hey.”

He dropped the stick he’d been fiddling with, turning to face her. “Hey,” he echoed listlessly.

Sasha bit back her irritation. “C’mon,” she said, gesturing a little ways past where Jean and Ymir were helping Captain Levi build a fire. “Let’s go talk for a minute.”

“Okay,” Connie acquiesced, falling into step beside her. He didn’t say anything else, and every time Sasha glanced over at him, he was staring at the ground.

When they were out of earshot, she rounded on him. “All right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Out with it. Why are you so mopey?”

Connie frowned. “I’m not mopey,” he muttered.

Sasha stomped her foot. “Look at me!” She barked, her temper boiling over.

Connie did—probably more because of her hostile tone than anything else, and then Sasha let him have it.

“You’ve barely said a word to me all day, and every time I’ve tried to ask you what’s wrong, you blow me off with some one-word answer. I want you to knock it off and just…” She searched for an eloquent way to put it and then gave up and settled for blunt. “Just man up, Connie! Tell me what’s bothering you!”

Apparently it was the wrong choice of words, because while she finally got a reaction out of him, it wasn’t even close to the one she was expecting.

“Man up?” He repeated, his voice getting louder. “ _Man up?”_

A few people glanced in their direction, including Captain Levi.

Sasha felt her ears turning red. “Connie—”

He cut her off. “No. You want to know what’s wrong? Well, _that’s_ what’s wrong. _Man up_.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah, I get it. That’s what you want, Sasha,” he said, his voice suddenly laced with pain. “You want a _man_ , someone who’s strong and intimidating and capable. Someone who can take down a freakin’ bear with you. And I’m just not him.”

The blush of redness faded to a chalky white as the meaning behind his words sank in. “Connie, what’re you talking about? I don’t—”

But he wouldn’t let her finish. “I saw the way you two looked out there today. You were incredible.” He looked at her directly for the first time since he’d started talking, and while she finally saw the admiration and pride in his eyes she’d been hoping for all day long, the hurt mixed in made her own gaze fall.

“But I’ll never be able to do that, Sasha. I can’t be strong with you like that. I’m not Clio. I try to be there for you in every way I can, but it isn’t enough. It won’t ever be enough. And how can it? I can’t compete with someone like Clio. He’s a warrior. And the way you hugged him after you guys won…” His brows drew together. “You looked so happy, so…so right together.” He sighed. “I guess what I’m saying is that I get it. You guys make sense. We don't.”

Sasha just stood there for a second, flabbergasted. “Are you serious?” She eventually spluttered. “Clio and I are friends, Connie! Friends! I wasn’t hugging him because I’m in love with him—I was hugging him because I was happy to not be bear food!” Her hands balled into fists. “And yeah, you might not be the macho man, but you’re the guy that makes me happy, the guy I’m having a baby with! You’re the only person I want to be with, Connie.”

His mouth had dropped open to a comical extreme. “The guy you’re having a…a _what_ with?” He breathed.

Sasha sucked in a breath. _Shit. Shit shit shit._ Had she really just said that out loud? Why, _why_ couldn’t she learn to filter her thoughts before spitting them out?

She swallowed. “I…we...I’m pregnant,” she said lamely. “And you’re the father.”

“And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, _mention_ this before now?”

“I wanted to!” She swore. “I really did, Connie, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I found out the day Maria fell, and we’ve just been so focused on surviving that I could never find the right moment to bring it up, and I didn’t even know how to bring it up. And I didn’t want to burden you with this responsibility, because for all I knew you wouldn’t even want this baby. I mean, we’ve never talked about being parents…hell, we’ve never even really decided if we’re together or not! And now we’re spending every day fighting for our lives, and I just…” She spread her hands out in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve known since Maria?” He asked, and the hurt that had been only slightly visible in his eyes before was now full-blown in his wounded tone. “You knew all this time, and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you,” she rushed to assure him. “It had nothing to do with trust.”

“Yeah, it did,” he argued, “or you would have told me.” He sighed. “I love you, Sasha, and I thought you knew that. But the fact that you thought I might not want to have a baby with you, that I wouldn’t want to stay with you or raise a family…you obviously don’t get it.”

His words made her feel warm and cold all at once. “So you…you do want this baby?” She asked quietly. “I mean, you’re happy about it?”

He ran a hand through his cropped hair as his lips twitched up sadly. “Yeah,” he said. “And I couldn’t picture wanting a kid with anyone but you, Sasha. I know I’d probably be a blunder of a dad, but I…I’d try my best. I want to.” His eyes clouded over. “But unless you feel the same way…” He trailed off.

Sasha stepped forward, suddenly afraid of where their conversation was heading. “I do feel the same way,” she insisted, a trace of pleading in her tone. “I want to raise our baby together.”

There was no trace of belief in Connie’s expression. “Okay, then answer this honestly: does anyone else know?” He asked the question like he was already sure of the answer.

“Well,” she admitted reluctantly, “Clio does, but that’s only because he’s the one that—”

Connie held up a hand. “It’s all right, Sasha. You don’t need to explain.” He lowered his gaze, and from the rapid way he was blinking, Sasha had a feeling he was fighting back tears.

“You trusted Clio with the truth, and he was there for you. This baby might be ours, but he’s the one you turned to.” His voice was choked, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were clear again. “I’ll always be here for you, Sasha, but first you need to make sure that I’m really what you want.”

Now it was Sasha’s turn to blink back tears. “You are, Connie,” she vowed, wishing he knew how true it was. “You are.”

“It doesn’t really seem that way to me.”

“Then how can I prove it to you?" She asked, suddenly desperate. "Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Even though he didn’t answer her, she knew how he felt. _You can’t_ was written all over his expression, as loud and clear as if he’d spoken the words.

“I’m gonna go find a spot for you to rest before all the good ones get taken,” he said, looking away. “We should make sure you’re as comfortable as possible on account of…” His throat worked. “On account of the baby.”

“Connie…”

He glanced back at her. “Just leave it alone for now, okay?” His voice was low, quiet. “We can talk later, once you’ve had time to think.”

“But—”

“Please, Sasha,” he said. “I just…not now, okay?”

Feeling helpless, Sasha gave him a grudging nod and then was forced to watch him walk away, every step he took feeling like a tiny desertion.

She was angry at herself for blurting out her secret, but even angrier at the fact that she just hadn’t told him the truth to begin with. Now he was angry and hurt, and she didn’t know how to convince him that what she’d said was true or how to mend their relationship.

Her earlier buoyancy deflated until she felt utterly empty, and then she sank down on the nearest log, one hand coming to rest on her barely swelling stomach.

“I hope you take after your father,” she whispered, voice heavy with defeat. “Because your momma is a mess.”

 

**

He was waiting for her like he said he would be, standing on the far edge of their camp, silhouetted in the shadows cast by the dying fire. Mikasa walked towards him on silent feet, enjoying the quiet of the forest and the sight of the gentle flurries still swirling in the air. She had seen some of the other humans shivering earlier, but as she drew closer to Levi it appeared that he was either immune to the cold or much better at handling it than the others. He was still as stone and there were no goosebumps on his skin; he appeared entirely at ease—almost as indifferent to the weather as she was, though she knew that couldn’t be the case. Humans were warm-blooded creatures, after all.

_Maybe he’s just too distracted to notice._

The thought came when she was close enough to see that he was turning something over in his hands, fingers gliding over its surface in what she could only describe as a thoughtful caress.

Which ceased immediately once he caught sight of her in his periphery. He turned, sheathing the double-bladed boomerang she’d seen him use once before, the motion so fast that it almost seemed guilty.

“Vampire.”

His single-word greeting fell somewhere between a statement and a question, and Mikasa wasn’t sure what to make of it so she responded in kind, feeling slightly anxious. “Reaper.”

He sighed, his breath fogging in the night air. “Come on,” he said, inclining his head. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be out of sight of camp.”

She fell into step beside him as he headed off into the woods, and for a while the only sound was the light tread of the Reaper’s footsteps. Neither of them looked at each other or broke the silence until at last Levi held up a hand.

“Here’s good,” he said, gesturing to a spot between a tight cluster of trees. The twisted branches overhead provided a natural roof, blocking the snow.

Mikasa nodded, feeling strangely anxious as she followed after him.

And apparently she wasn’t the only one. Levi’s entire body was rigid, and while his eyes were mostly hidden behind his bangs, the tense line of his lips still gave his discomfort away.

There wasn’t much space for them between the trees, and the obtrusive roots were choking off what little distance they would have had, forcing them to stand so close that they were almost touching.

Which, Mikasa realized, she was going to have to do. There was no way for her to feed on him without physical contact; she was going to have to touch him.

And she was suddenly more anxious than ever.

The previous time she’d taken his blood, there had been so much desperation and anger on her part that she hadn’t really thought about what she was doing—she’d just acted on instinct. She hadn’t cared about hurting him or draining him, and she certainly hadn’t experienced any of this debilitating, awkward tension.

 _Perhaps_ , she mused, _it is because this situation is fundamentally different than the last time_. There was now an...an intimacy (her mind recoiled from the word but she couldn't think of a better term for it) that had been most assuredly lacking before. She’d thought that nothing could change, but she’d been wrong. Things had already changed. Traveling, fighting, surviving together—it had changed them. The lines of black and white they'd stood on were no longer as stark as they once had been, and Mikasa had no idea what the etiquette was as they endeavored to cross the newly blurred sea of greys.

She swallowed. “I don’t…” She tried.

Finally Levi looked up at her. “Just do what you need to do,” he said, voice low and quiet. “Take what you need.”

A nod was all she could manage.

Steeling herself against the flutter of nerves in her stomach, Mikasa tentatively reached forward and placed a hand on his chest, between his left shoulder and neck.

Her fingers jerked as soon as they made contact with him. “You feel like ice,” she said, shocked.

He gave a short huff. “Of course I do, vampire; it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Mikasa forced her fingers to settle on him, feeling guilty. _She_ wasn’t affected by the cold, so naturally, she’d forgotten how quickly the temperature would drop once they were away from the warmth of the fire, forgotten that – as a human – Levi would freeze to death long before she would. The last thing she should be doing was wasting time because she felt uncomfortable.

Resolve fortified, Mikasa placed her other hand on his right shoulder and leaned forward, closing the distance between them until she could feel the graze of his shirt against her chest.

She let her fangs descend and ghosted them over the faded spots she’d left the previous time, her body shuddering as their sharp tips met his thin skin.

Levi stiffened even more, his muscles tensing beneath her hands and the tendons straining on his neck—as if he were preparing himself for the inevitable, bracing himself against the coming pain.

Mikasa closed her eyes. _I am not going to hurt him like I did last time. I am not. I am in control._

_I am in control._

She held onto that as she pierced his skin, holding him in place as he hissed and reflexively jerked back, waiting until he stilled and relaxed before she gently, carefully sank her fangs into his neck. When her lips finally met his icy skin, she shivered.

So did he.

She began to drink.

His blood flowed from the puncture wounds instantly, easily, and it was exactly like before as she felt the first drop of it on her tongue. Strong. Potent. Intoxicating. But it was also more than that, because this time Mikasa could taste other things in his blood—as though the iron of it was imbued with his strength, his will, his power. It was _him_ in a purer sense of the word, in a way she couldn’t readily define, and it was overwhelming. She gasped against his neck and took another long drink, her hands clutching restlessly at his shirt as the taste of him flooded her mouth, her head spinning pleasantly.

And then— _lightning_. It was blinding, exhilarating, flashing like fire from her fangs and spreading out into her veins, overtaking her so quickly that the breath was knocked from her lungs. It was euphoria and pain and a sense of unity between his blood and hers that she'd never even come close to feeling before. Her limbs went limp, and before she had time to process what was happening, she was falling into Levi, her body landing flush against the solid wall of his chest. She heard him give a soft grunt as the motion propelled them back a step, into the tree behind them, and suddenly his hands were on her, and although she knew, rationally, that it was more of a reflexive motion than anything else, the feel of his hands on her sides was enough to send her already swimming senses into overdrive. All she wanted was to give in to temptation and keep feeding on him until she tasted oblivion.

Instead, she stopped.

_I am in control._

Breathing hard, she forced herself to retract her fangs. She did so slowly, mindful of how easy it would be to hurt him. It took an immense amount of willpower not to dive back in and devour him as soon as her fangs tasted air, but she succeeded, though she couldn't resist the blood that pooled from the pinpricks at his throat. She lapped the extra drops up with her tongue, shivering again as she felt Levi suck in a sharp breath and flinch at the change of contact.

Then, still reeling from the blood high and the aftereffects of... whatever it was that had happened, Mikasa straightened, trying to regain her sense of equilibrium. She tried not to touch Levi as she pulled away but failed, freezing as her cheek brushed his chin, her eyes flickering up to his.

And her breath caught in her throat. Because of all the things she’d been expecting, _this_ wasn’t it at all.

Levi was staring at her with a strange, pained expression on his face, sucking in rapid, shallow breaths between his parted lips as his eyes bored into hers. It wasn’t an expression of physical pain—no; it was something else entirely, something that made Mikasa forget for one single, suspended moment that she was a vampire and he was a Reaper. Their faces were so close that she could count each of his eyelashes if she chose to, close enough that she could see a faint, white scar on his left brow that she’d never noticed before.

They were close in other ways, too. There was a hairsbreadth of space between their bodies now, but Levi’s fingers hadn't left her—they'd merely slid down from her rib cage to her waist and now they were digging into her skin like ten bruising anchors, and her hands were still resting on his chest, heavily enough that she could feel the uneven stutter of his heartbeat like it was a drum playing in her own bloodstream. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his parted lips to where her hands lay before traveling to the puncture wounds she’d reopened on his neck.

_Claimed._

The word came to her unbidden, and the shock of it made her exhale sharply, startling both of them.

They released each other at the same moment, jerking back.

Mikasa stared at the ground for a moment, trying to clear her head. When she eventually looked up again, Levi was palming his neck in agitated swipes, wiping off the traces of blood that lingered there. He seemed as shaken as she felt.

“I…” Mikasa faltered. “I tried to be gentler this time…to make it less painful.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” Levi’s voice was slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” He dropped his hand from his neck and glanced over at her, his gaze as guarded as ever. “Did you get enough?” He asked.

“Yes.” She hadn’t taken enough to slake her thirst, but she had drunk enough to get by for a while. “Do you want me to bandage your neck again?” She asked, bringing her hand up.

She was just gesturing – she had no intention of actually touching him unless he asked her to – but he must have assumed she was reaching for him because she’d barely raised her arm when his hand shot out and locked around her wrist, his grip so forceful that she nearly winced.

His brow furrowed slightly. “No,” he said, the word as resolute as his grip. His gaze flitted to her caged wrist. He swallowed. “No,” he repeated, loosening his hold on her. “We should get back to camp.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, just starting walking, not even sparing her a glance to see if she was coming.

It was very much a throwback to the way he’d treated her when they’d first met, and Mikasa felt her stomach twist at it, though she kept her face composed, concealing how much his attitude was wounding her as she fell into step a few paces behind him.

They'd walked for only a few minutes when Levi stumbled, no doubt dizzy from blood loss.

Mikasa caught him before he could fall, steadying him, only to be rewarded by a rough shove.

“Get off of me,” he all but hissed, eyes flashing dangerously.

She flinched at his tone. “I was just—”

He held up a hand. “I know.” He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. When he let it out, he seemed to be marginally calmer. “Just don’t,” he said, a trace of pleading in his voice. “Don’t touch me, Mikasa.”

The first emotion she felt was hurt, but then something else occurred to her, something she hadn’t considered before. She took a small step towards him, ignoring the wary look he gave her as she closed the distance between them.

“Did something happen?” She asked, voice no more than a murmur. “When I fed on you, did it affect you differently than it did last time?” It certainly seemed possible; the way he'd been looking at her when she'd pulled back... it was an expression that would be branded in her memory forever.

"Did it?" She pressed. _Did you feel it, too?_

“No.”

His hesitation spoke volumes, as did his answer.

_Liar._

Mikasa could sense it, somehow. She knew he was lying. Something _had_ happened to him, but he obviously didn’t want to admit it to her.

“What about you?” He asked, turning the tables on her. “Was it different for you?”

She echoed his lie with one of her own. “No.”

But the lie didn’t prevent her grandmother’s words from whispering up from her memories.

_Not one in a thousand vampires is capable of forming a blood bond. It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but if it does happen, dear child, it holds meaning so deep that not even the bleeds could make your heart forget it._

It wasn’t possible. Blood bonds were myths; Mikasa had never met a vampire who’d actually formed one. And even if they weren’t myths, there was no earthly way such a bond would ever be possible between…

Mikasa shut the thought down before her mind could finish it, though now she found that _she_ was the one avoiding Levi’s gaze.

“We should go back to camp,” she said woodenly, repeating his earlier suggestion.

“Probably. My ass is fucking numb. So is the rest of me.” He paused, heels digging in the dirt. “I don’t know why I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have.” His eyes found hers. “What I said before still holds true: if you need my blood, you can have it. It’s my way of paying you back, seeing as you’re the reason we’re not titan shit yet.”

A smile ghosted across her lips. “True,” she agreed.

Levi snorted and the tension of the moment was broken. But as they made their way back to camp, her grandmother’s words kept returning to her, refusing to be pushed aside, and by the time the bunker came into view, a single thought was beginning to eat away at her:

_I am blood bonded to a Reaper._

She watched Levi tend to the dying fire, stoking it until flames once more began to dance skywards.

_Maybe I’m wrong._

She hoped she was. But if she wasn’t, then this journey was fated to be even more doomed than it already was.

 

 

 

 


	9. Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for all of the comments and support you gave me last chapter; you guys really do keep me going. I hope you enjoy the update! \\(^.^)/

_Certain things are not meant to return, but instead, for the well-being of the soul, are best left to memory._

\- Adage of unknown origin

**

 

The rain that had blown down in heavy sheets all night had finally abated, but the morning air retained its cold dampness and the storm clouds darkening the sky were re-amassing, promising that the rainless dawn would only be an interlude.

The state of the weather mattered little to Duro, however; what mattered instead was the state of his mission. He was standing still as stone, staring at the corpses of his underlings littered throughout the clearing at the mouth of the mountain. He felt no sense of loss, but as he surveyed the scene, his lips tightened in grim distaste.

What a disappointing failure. Even with the aid of the bears, his team hadn’t managed to slay a single one of the humans. The pathetic sight he was witnessing now wasn’t the vestige of a battle but the attestation of a one-sided massacre.

Duro growled. He couldn’t go back to base with nothing to report but this; such a humiliating defeat would see him stripped of his rank, or worse, earn him a rending, and that was something he refused to endure. Witnessing its implementation had been bad enough, but the idea of actually experiencing it... No. He would rather slit his own throat than be executed in such a horrific way. And he would, if it came to that. For now, though, he had a job to do.

Raising his fingers to his lips, Duro whistled. The sound was gruff but still pitched enough to accomplish the task, and he waited, face turned upwards expectantly. Moments later, a slender raven alighted on his shoulder, cawing once as its wings settled on its back.

Duro ran a clawed finger along its beak - his customary greeting - and then he fished a small piece of parchment and charcoal from one of his many pockets. He dipped one of his nails into the charcoal until it was sufficiently coated and then used it to scratch out a brief message. His claws prevented him from writing the way he had when he’d been human, but this method worked well enough for him to relay his coordinates and give a brief mission update.

When he was done, he affixed the slip of parchment to the bird’s foot and watched as the raven took flight, quickly disappearing into the gloom of the sky.

He spared one more glance at his fallen underlings and then turned away, heading once more into the forest. The humans’ trail had been somewhat washed away by the storm, but their numbers were great enough that traces of their passage still remained, traces that he would be able to track. With any luck, he’d overtake them in a day or two and then he’d do what he did best.

He’d kill them.

 

**

Cody Ral ran with all her might, feet pounding as she sprinted for the tree line, but before she’d made it even halfway there she was stopped, the breath whooshing from her lungs as a familiar, muscular arm caught her around the waist.

“You’re still looking,” Clio admonished as he straightened up and let her go.

Cody scowled in reply but didn’t say anything. Clio was right, of course, but it wasn’t like she was _trying_ to look; it was just really hard not to.

“Okay.” Cody stepped away from him and righted her stance once more, bringing her fists up into the guard he’d showed her as she tried to catch her breath. “Let me try again.”

Clio nodded, and she waited to see what he would do. Sometimes he went on the offensive, making her defend herself (and as difficult as it was to muster the energy to keep her tired arms up, the stinging bruise now forming on her cheek was enough motivation to prevent her from dropping them). Other times, he would just stand there and wait, letting her make the first move. Either way, the goal was always the same: make it successfully to the trees without being caught.

Now, Clio watched her for a moment and then spread his arms out. “Eyes on me,” he instructed. “And this time, don’t give away your movements. Just think and act.”

An idea came to her, one she hadn’t thought of before. She’d been so intent on running either to his right or left that she’d forgotten that there were other alternatives.

So instead of darting to the side when he lunged at her, this time she jumped back a pace and then jogged back a few more. She kept her gaze fixed intently on his face so as not to give away her idea, and then, as he started towards her, she tucked and rolled right through his legs. She shot up to her feet and bolted instantly, making a mad dash for the trees, her arms and legs working furiously.

_Almost there, almost there…_

She was within five meters of the trees when Clio caught her.

Cody bit her lip in anger, squirming against his grip. “No!” She shouted, reaching her arms towards the trees as if she could somehow will herself to touch them. After a second, she gave up. “I was so close.” She sagged against him with a groan of defeat. “You’re just too fast for me, Clio. I’m never gonna be able to make it.”

He let her go and crouched down in front of her, spinning her around so she was facing him. “Wrong,” he said simply. “That move back there caught me completely by surprise. And you didn’t give it away. It was extremely clever.”

Cody folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t patriotize me,” she mumbled.

Clio’s human eye crinkled with mirth as his lips pulled up in a smile. “I’m not _patronizing_ you, Cody,” he said, gently correcting her wording. “I’m being honest. I’m fast, but I almost didn’t catch you that time.”

“Almost getting away wouldn’t matter in a real fight.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “What did I do wrong?”

“You ran in a straight line.”

Cody blinked. “And that’s why you caught me?”

“Yup.” Clio straightened up. “When your enemy is faster than you, it doesn’t matter how fast you run because they’ll always be able to catch up to you. You have to make yourself an elusive target.”

Her brows scrunched together. “Elusive?”

“Hard to catch. Slippery. Always shifting, moving.”

“So I could…” she pursed her lips, thinking. “Zigzag?” She ventured. “Instead of running straight?”

Clio gave her a proud nod. “Now you’re thinking.”

Newfound excitement overcame her. “Can I try again?” She asked.

Clio sighed. “Not today,” he said. “It’s time for me to go and you to get inside.”

“But Clio—”

“I know. But orders are orders and we both have ours.”

Cody kicked at the ground. “Why does Captain Levi keep sending you away?” She asked, not caring if she sounded like a whiny five-year-old. She was tired of Clio always having to leave. He’d be with them for an hour or two and then gone for entire days, off scouting for who knew what. It wasn’t fair; the Captain didn’t send anyone else away, and Clio was one of her only friends.

A distant rumble sounded in the sky, and Cody looked up at the swirling clouds. “Look,” she said, pointing. “There’s gonna be another storm. Can’t you stay until after?”

“I wish I could, but I need to scout out as much as I can before the rain comes and washes it away.”

“Washes what away?”

Clio eyed her in silence for a moment before answering. “Tracks,” he finally said. “I’m tracking a titan that’s been following us.”

Cody knew he meant it; the other adults tended to keep the truth from her, but Clio never did. Still, she couldn’t hide her fear. “I thought titans weren’t smart enough to do things like that,” she said, the words coming out in a whisper.

“Some are,” Clio admitted, “and this one is. I need to find him before he finds us. That’s why Captain Levi keeps sending me away.”

“But why just you?” She pressed.

“Because I’ve had years of practice doing this and no one else in the group knows how to track. Captain Levi’s trying to keep everyone safe, and so am I. We all have to do our part.” He reached out a hand and Cody grasped it. “C’mon,” he said, giving her a gentle tug. “Let’s get you back to your mom before she thinks I decided to eat you.”

Cody giggled in spite of herself. “Okay,” she said, settling into step beside him. Even though his legs were much longer than hers, he always walked at a pace she could keep up with, and even though she’d never admit it, she liked holding his hand. It made her feel safe, and for the few minutes it took them to walk back to camp, she felt worry-free.

But when they returned to the bunker and he tried to say goodbye, Cody clutched at him, unwilling to let him go. “What if something happens?” She asked. “What if you find the titan and he hurts you?”

Clio stooped down until he was eye level with her and graced her with a kind smile. “He won’t. Remember this?" He turned his head and pointed to the piece of hair she'd braided the last time he'd come back from scouting. It was small, a tight weave that ran from his left temple into his bun, and while it wasn't really noticeable from far away, Cody didn't care; she was proud of how good it looked and secretly pleased that he hadn't taken it out.

"I remember."

"You told me it was good luck."

Cody pursed her lips. "I remember that, too," she admitted.

"And you also promised to show me how you did it." A few soft lines crinkled at the corner of his human eye, radiating warmth. "So you see," he explained, "nothing can happen to me because we have unfinished business. Braiding lessons for fighting lessons, you said so yourself. So I’m promising you right now that I’ll come back, and believe me: I always keep my promises.” He paused, regarding her pensively. “Will you promise me something in return?”

Cody nodded.

“Will you be good for your mom, do what she asks you to?”

Cody sighed and rolled her eyes. Of course he'd ask her to do _that._ “Yes,” she mumbled. “I promise.”

“Good.” Clio gave her hair a tug and straightened up. “I’ll see you soon, Cody Ral,” he said, and then he turned and walked away, just as another roll of thunder rumbled in the sky.

 

**

They were a mile from the last outpost when the storm hit.

One moment there was nothing except the smell of rain, and the next, the sky opened up and unleashed a maelstrom. It was a downpour of apocalyptic proportions—heavy, relentless, and blinding, soaking them instantly. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed down from the sky in brilliant yellow streaks, and all that was audible was the heavy pelt of rain and the howling gusts of wind that ripped through the fabric of the trees.

Levi squinted, shielding his eyes as best he could with his hand. “Fuck,” he muttered as a gust of wind nearly knocked him backwards. The storm's timing was absolute shit, but there was no way they could press forward. They were gaining altitude again, worming their way through a large mountain range, following a path that wasn’t even clear on a good day. Now, visibility was nil and the wind was dangerous; one misstep and they’d pitch off of a cliff.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “Turn back!” He shouted into the rain. “Grab hands and turn back! Go back to the bunker!” They'd drained the place of supplies the previous day (which was why he had made the call to leave in the first damn place), but it didn't matter. They had to go back. Food was a secondary concern next to shelter.

 _Fuck this weather,_ he cursed silently, repeating the mantra he'd been reciting for the better part of a week. _Fuck this storm._

In response, the rain only seemed to come down harder.

 _Figures._ "Yeah, well, fuck you too, Mother Nature," he muttered aloud.

Despite the chaos around him, Levi felt Mikasa’s presence a split second before he saw her, like an itch at the corner of his awareness, and then she was in front of him, her slim figure drenched by rain.

“Titans!” She yelled at him, a vein bulging in her neck as she struggled to be heard. Her black eyes were wild. “A horde of them!”

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Titans were the last things they needed to deal with right now. “Where?” He yelled back. He searched his field of vision but couldn’t see anything past the damning flood of rain.

Mikasa shook her head. “Everywhere! They’re scattered all around us!”

“Number?”

“At least thirty. Levi, I—”

A piercing, human scream erupted behind them and Levi spun about, just in time to witness two titans rip into one of the civilians. Simon, if he remembered correctly. The titans didn’t seem to attack him as much as stumble into him, but once they realized he was human it was all over. One of them tore his arm off at the shoulder while the other sank his teeth into the side of his neck. Simon’s screams died into a strangled gurgle.

 _Fucking hell._ Levi grabbed Mikasa and started running. “Round up everyone you can find and get them back to the bunker!” He shouted. “If any of the titans come within range, kill them.”

And then he was veering away, searching for civilians, blades drawn. The first titan he encountered came charging out of the swirl of rain in front of him, running almost aimlessly as it tried to wipe the water from its face. Levi took it down with a single slice of his blades, severing its head, not even pausing in his stride. A few more appeared in the rain and he dispatched them all with vicious quickness, still scanning for members of his group. Occasionally the sounds of the raging storm were punctuated by screams and cries, but each time he hurried towards what he thought was the source, he found nothing.

It seemed like a miracle when the bunker finally came into sight, and even more of one when he noticed a good handful of the group clambering inside. Petra was ushering people through the door, helping them, while Jean and Ymir stood at either end, fighting off the titans that came stumbling out of the rain.

Levi ran to their aid immediately, cutting a titan’s legs out from beneath it just as it reached Ymir. He rammed one of his blades through its head as it fell to the ground.

“Cap—”

“Hold your position!” He shouted as he yanked his blade free, and then he was circling the bunker. There were two civilians half running, half limping towards him, a large titan chasing after them.

“Help us! Please!”

There was a blur of white skin and black hair, and the titan was struck down. Even through the curtain of rain, Levi knew it was Mikasa.

He reached out and grabbed the civilians as they made it to him, propelling them towards the bunker. “Get inside!” He barked, making sure that Petra had a good grip on them before he let go. Then he raced back into the rain, searching for stragglers.

He found another civilian only minutes later, a titan within biting distance. Warm blood splashed Levi’s face as he cut it down, but he ignored his revulsion. The way the rain was pelting down, it would be washed away within seconds.

He’d just managed to get the civilian to the door of the bunker when another horrified scream pierced the rain.

Once again Levi took off at a sprint, but this time, he wasn’t fast enough. The titan reached the human before he did, and he arrived just in time to see it crouched atop the corpse, gnawing at the man’s face.

Hatred seized him instantly, fueling him with malevolent purpose, and he strode forward, blades extended. He might be too late to save the civilian, but he could at least avenge him.

He was only a few yards away when the titan looked up.

Levi froze in place, the blades going slack in his grip.

Gore dripped from the titan’s mouth as it stood up and turned to face him, mixing with the rain and running in red rivulets down its chin and neck. It cocked its head to the side, staring at him with flat black eyes, its clawed hands twitching at its sides.

Still, Levi did nothing. He couldn't. All he could focus on was the shock of red-brown hair and the two familiar, lopsided pigtails.

The horror he felt in that moment eclipsed everything, even the need to defend himself.

 _No,_ he pleaded silently. _Not this. Not her..._

The blades fell from his hands, landing in the mud with a wet thump. “Isabel…” He choked, barely able to breathe the syllables of her name.

There was no flash of recognition in her black eyes. She stared at him silently for another drawn-out moment, and then she bared her bloodstained teeth and growled.

He needed to pick up his blades or retrieve the dagger from his boot or unholster his boomerang—something. Anything. But he couldn’t. It was Isabel - carefree, loving, optimistic Isabel - and he could never, ever hurt her. Not even now.

Not even as she charged at him, teeth and claws extended with lethal purpose.

 

**

The burst of anguish hit Mikasa with such agonizing, crippling intensity that she nearly crumpled to the ground. With a startled cry, she doubled over and clutched at her stomach, gasping.

_Levi._

She didn’t know why she knew, but she was sure of it: the anguish was his.

Righting herself, she took a breath and launched herself in his direction. It wasn’t just the smell of his blood that guided her, but his pain, too, as though it were a string pulling her along, growing steadier and stronger the closer she got to him until finally she saw him, standing like a limp doll within yards of the bunker, doing nothing to shield himself as a titan rushed at him.

Panic overshadowed her sense of pain. “Levi!” She shouted so loudly her voice cracked.

But it was as if he couldn’t hear her. He just stood in place, seconds away from being torn to pieces, looking for all the world like a willing participant in his own death.

There was no time to think.

Mikasa rushed forward with every fiber of speed she could muster, ignoring the awful sting of rain on her face, not even sparing the time to slap away the rain-whipped leaves that stuck to her skin, her mind and being pulsing with a single, driving purpose: _save him, save him, save him._

She barreled into the titan just as it reached him and the three of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs, claws, and mud. Digging her talons into the titan’s shoulders, she used her bodyweight and momentum to roll the two of them away from Levi, gritting her teeth as the titan clawed at her and thrashed in an effort to get away.

But she wouldn’t let that happen. Still rolling, she lurched forward – fangs extended – and tore the creature’s throat out in a single, brutal move. A second later its body went limp in her arms and Mikasa rolled herself free, coming to land on her back in the mud, the rain beating down on her face in such a furious torrent that she couldn’t catch her breath.

She sat up, coughing, and spit out a mouthful of vile titan blood before rising unsteadily to her feet. She was dizzy from all of the rolling and everything around her was spinning so badly that she didn’t even see Levi until he was right on top of her. Before she could process what was happening, he threw her to the ground and pinned her there, his knees crushing into the sides of her hips as his hands went around her throat.

“You killed her,” he hissed, his fingers tightening with bruising pressure against her windpipe.

The sense of anguish was back, this time laced with anger so acute Mikasa felt like she’d been stabbed with it. She struggled against him, but he was strong and she was disoriented, and try as she might she couldn’t pry his fingers from her neck.

“Levi…” She tried, his name catching in her restricted throat.

“You vampires are all the same,” he raged, squeezing harder. “You take everything from me, everyone I love.” His eyes flashed. “You’re a fucking monster! She was just a girl and you…how could you...” His voice hitched. “I’ll kill you for this.”

His fingers tightened more with every sobbing breath he took, and Mikasa could feel consciousness slipping away from her even as the pieces all fell into place. The titan, his actions, his rage…it all made perfect, horrible sense, and she was so heartbrokenly sad for him that she felt tears pooling alongside the rain in her eyes.

She could hear voices in the background, all of them shouting words she couldn’t make out, but it didn’t matter. Whatever they were saying was outside of this moment and what was happening. She and Levi were all that mattered right now, the two of them and the violent emotions consuming them both, flowing between them with such strength that it was as if they were joined together by the very marrow in their bones.

Instinctively, she withdrew her fangs and claws and reached up, placing a gentle, comforting hand on his cheek. _I’m sorry,_ she thought, willing him to know it. _I’m so sorry, Levi._

And there, in the midst of the rain and his own turbulent anger, Levi blinked, the storm of his emotions receding from his eyes as he stared down at her. “Mikasa…?” He blinked again, seeming to notice what he was doing for the first time. His eyes widened in horror and he lurched away from her, his hands leaving her throat as he stood up and stumbled back.

Mikasa rolled to her side and gasped, sucking in a shallow, labored breath, her head spinning, her throat throbbing. Distantly, she realized that someone was helping her up and that that someone was Ymir, of all people, and that Ymir was asking her something, but she had no idea what the question was.

There was a terrible ringing in her ears that was washing out even the sound of the sweeping rain, and then, before she knew what was happening, Mikasa’s world dissolved into black.

 

**

The sounds were the worst part.

They were all crammed inside the bunker now—well, everyone that was left, but the storm was still raging outside and the rain was hammering their shelter like a million nails falling in endless succession. Worse than that, though, was the sound the titans made whenever they hit the walls. It was a dull thud, a heavy smack that sometimes seemed to shake the very structure of the place, and each time it happened Ymir was sure it was going to be the time the rusty old walls gave way and the titans spilled in.

These titans didn't seem to possess the organization or intelligence of the other titans they'd encountered, but that didn't make them any less terrifying. They reminded Ymir of the stories she'd heard about titans after Year Zero: feral, fast, rabid monsters consumed by bloodlust, devoid of human reason and emotion. Running from them while half-blinded by the storm had been a harrowing experience. One second there'd be nothing but the rain, and the next there'd be a set of jaws and claws within striking distance. Screams for help were swallowed by the downpour, as were battle cries. Everyone was alone, facing their nightmares in a world of wet, cold semi-darkness, and more than once Ymir had thought she would be torn to pieces with nothing but the uncaring storm clouds to witness her exit from the world. When she'd finally stumbled upon the bunker, she'd felt like a dying beggar given food after weeks of starvation, but now, packed in while the storm and titans waged war on their moldering sanctuary, fear was worming around her insides, causing more of a chill than the cold rain soaking her clothes ever could.

“Why the fuck are they doing that?” Jean whined beside her. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and rain just like the rest of them were, and his hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he and Petra had bolted the door shut however many minutes earlier.

“I don’t know, Mule,” she whispered. “Why don’t you go outside and ask them?”

“Fuck you, Ymir. Now’s not the time for your shit.”

Maybe not, but sarcasm was a nice distraction from the reality of the present. Still, she held her tongue; quarters were too tight to risk starting a fight.

She flinched as another titan ran into the wall outside, Jean's question echoing in her own mind. Why the hell  _were_ they doing that? Could they not see in the rain or something? Were they unintentionally running into the bunker or were they actively trying to get in? Intelligent or not, could they somehow smell or sense that there were humans ripe for the killing on the drier side of a few inches of rusting metal? She shuddered, hoping it wasn't that. God, she needed a drink. Or a shag. Or someone to make fun of. Anything, really, to take her mind off of the present shitfest. Aside from pushing Mule's buttons, though, nothing came to mind.

In an effort to _not_ resort to that, she glanced over at the prone figure of the vampire, seeking a less confrontational distraction.

Fangs was alive—that much was true, but if it hadn’t been for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, Ymir would’ve sworn otherwise. Hell, with her naturally creepy pallor she always seemed half dead anyway, and now, with the angry bruises ringing her neck like a choker, Fangs really did resemble a corpse.

Ymir had seen Cap attack her—so had Jean and Petra, but they’d all been too shocked to react right away. It was completely unexpected. Fangs had literally just saved Cap’s life and he reacted by choking her out. Talk about a fucking curveball. Thinking back on it now, Ymir was surprised that Fangs had held out as long as she had before succumbing to unconsciousness, considering how determined Cap had seemed to kill her. Well, considering how determined he'd been _before_ he’d snapped out of it. Ymir didn’t really understand what had happened then, either, but she hadn’t had any time to dwell on it. Petra had ordered her to help Fangs and she’d launched into action, no questions asked. It had been weird helping the vampire (especially after she’d passed out and Ymir had been forced to carry her like a sack of potatoes), but she never experienced the revulsion she’d been expecting.

_Six is better than five._

Mule was usually a bona fide idiot, true, but maybe he hadn’t been so off when he’d offered that little team-building nugget. Lately, it _had_ almost felt like they were a team of six – races be damned – protecting the group. The vampire had more than proved her worth in the last few fights, so maybe that was why helping her out in the rain had almost, _almost,_ felt like helping a wounded comrade off of the battlefield: because she almost was a comrade.

As Ymir watched, the vampire’s eyes fluttered briefly and then closed again, and Ymir followed her example and closed her own eyes, shutting out the scene of panic and anxiety that filled every inch of the packed, claustrophobic space around her. The shield of her eyelids didn’t block out the sounds, of course; she could still hear the thuds of the titans smacking into the walls, the hammering rain, the howling wind, and the bellowing roar of thunder, but closing her eyes allowed her to retreat inside herself a little bit, to block out the chaos of the storm just enough to keep her sanity.

She began to count the length of her inhales and exhales, and eventually she just began to count each breath she took.

When she lost track of them well over eight hundred, she started again.

Outside, the storm raged on.

 

**

It was dark when Mikasa awoke, but it was also blissfully quiet, which could only mean one thing: the storm, at least for now, was over.

She sat up groggily, trying to gain her bearings. She was in the bunker, which meant that someone must have brought her here because she had no recollection of making it inside. The last thing she remembered was…

_“Can you hear me, Fangs?”_

Right. Ymir—she had helped her after…

Mikasa's eyes widened as her hands instinctively moved to her throat. What had transpired with Levi didn’t seem possible, but the tenderness of her skin and the way her throat was throbbing in pain proved that it had happened. Levi had tried to kill her, and somehow, she had stopped him.

Images and sensations came flooding back to her: the look of hatred in his eyes as he crouched above her, the feel of his fingers tightening and tightening against her aching windpipe with such violence she was sure her neck would snap, the bitter words he’d screamed at her, and the deep, despairing sorrow she’d felt through it all.

Not once had she been afraid, though. She searched her mind, trying to find the fear, the panic, the hatred at being treated that way, but it wasn’t there. Even when she’d struggled against him, struggled to free herself, she didn’t remember feeling any of those things. She’d just felt pity and empathy and a profound desire to make the pain go away—his pain, her pain, _their_ pain, really...it had felt too inextricable to separate.

And Levi hadn’t meant to hurt her, she was almost certain of it. The way his anger had turned to shocked realization after she touched his cheek proved that, as did the way he’d immediately let her go.

The door to the bunker creaked open, startling her. She was on her feet instantly, blinking against the residual dizziness as she moved into a defensive position, but she relaxed once she saw that it was only Petra and her young daughter.

The petite woman ushered the little girl inside and shut the door. “Mikasa,” she greeted as soon as she noticed her. There was a strange wariness in her voice that was audible even in her whispered tone. “How are you feeling?”

Mikasa made her way over to her, stepping around the few people sleeping on the floor. “Better,” she answered. “But I'd like to get some fresh air.”

Petra nodded, stepping aside so that Mikasa could get to the door but keeping a loose grip on the handle to prevent her from leaving. “Cody, go pick a spot on the floor to sleep on, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

The little girl lingered a moment, clearly wanting to stay and listen to the conversation, but manners got the better of her and – with only a slight pout – she gave a reluctant nod and moved away. Mikasa watched her for a second before her gaze shifted back to Petra. She had no idea what the woman could possibly want to speak with her about, and she was more than a little confused by her seeming wariness.

Petra waited until her daughter was safely out of earshot before she spoke. “I know what happened earlier today must have been awful for you,” she said, “but please know that none of us wishes you ill. You’ve helped us a great deal and we are all grateful for you.”

The sincerity in her voice took Mikasa aback. “I…thank you,” she replied, not knowing what else to say.

“I mean it,” Petra insisted. “No one here intends you any harm—not even Captain Levi. He regrets what happened out in the storm; I know he does.” Her eyes softened. “He’s a good man. Really. He just…” She sighed lightly. “He has his breaking point like everyone else, and life has not been kind to him. If you knew the whole story...” She caught herself, her amber eyes widening. “Please don’t think I’m making excuses for his actions,” she hurried on, placing a hand on Mikasa’s forearm. Her touch was gentle, reassuring in an almost motherly way, and Mikasa felt an ache blossom in the core of her being for something she hadn’t been aware of missing in a very long time.

“I am so, so sorry that he hurt you,” Petra went on, her words still ringing with fervent sincerity. “I wish I could have stopped it from happening. I just…I hope you won’t judge him too harshly.”

Judging him was the furthest thing from her mind, though she supposed there was no way Petra could know that. From Petra’s perspective, she and Levi were still enemies, bound together by nothing more than blackmail and the promise of bloody revenge; worrying that Mikasa might lash out in anger after something like this was a logical assumption.

The truth was, though, that even before the…the _event_ a few days ago (she had no proof that she’d created a blood bond with a Reaper—absolutely none, and even less proof that blood bonds actually existed in the first place), Mikasa hadn’t viewed Levi as her enemy in days. Weeks, even. And while she wasn’t ready to admit that to anyone, she could at least set a worried mother’s mind at ease about this one thing.

“What’s done is done,” she told Petra. “And I have no intention of judging him for what happened. All I want to do is move forward.” _I want to move past this day, past this storm, past this journey. I want keep going until I find a place and time where things can go back to being simple._

But even as she wished for it, a part of her knew that things would never be simple again.

_I am blood bonded to a Reaper._

She pushed the insistent thought away as Petra released her arm and the door. “Thank you,” she said, and Mikasa could tell from the look in her eyes that she meant it. “If I had half your courage and selflessness, my life would be a lot simpler.” A tiny smile appeared on her face. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m rambling. You go get some air. And let me know if you need anything. I’m happy to help if I can.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa said, genuinely touched. She returned the woman’s smile before opening the door.

Outside, the air was crisp and cold and the earth smelled damp. Mikasa took a deep breath, relishing the way it seemed to clear her mind and revive her spirit. She began to walk aimlessly, intending to stay close to the bunker, but before long her aimless steps began to lead her away, towards the far side of camp and the one person still awake.

_Levi._

He was facing away from her, staring down at a mound of newly turned earth. It was crude, messy, and as Mikasa drew closer, she was able to make out the dark circles of dirt still caked beneath his fingernails and the residue of damp earth he had no way of washing from his palms.

She wondered how long it had taken him.

Levi remained as he was as she came to stand beside him—a weary human statue, gaze so far away it was as if he was looking into the past instead of staring at the grave he'd dug.

“The titan I killed,” Mikasa finally murmured, breaking the silence, “the one you buried here. You knew her.”

After a lengthy pause, he nodded.

“Who was she?” She wasn’t entirely sure what prompted her to ask, but the question was past her lips before she could stop it. She waited, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line, half expecting him to simply ignore her.

But Levi surprised her by answering. “Her name was Isabel,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “Isabel Magnolia. She was…” He swallowed. “She was the sister I never had.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve never had much in the way of friends or family, haven’t really had that many people that I’ve been close to, but she…she was one of them.”

Mikasa could tell he was struggling to keep his composure, but she also sensed that he needed to get the words out, to get the weight of what had happened off of his chest.

“Was she a hunter?”

“Yes. Not a Reaper, but she was in the Legion. She joined when Farlan did.”

Mikasa had no idea who Farlan was, but she didn’t ask for clarification. Now wasn’t the time.

“Both of them got the vaccine,” he went on. “I’ll never understand why they thought it was worth the risk. Injecting yourself with some genetic cocktail…it’s fucking insane. I didn’t want them to do it. I pleaded with them not to do it.” His hands closed into white-knuckled fists, clenched so tightly that they started to shake. “I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve stopped them. Especially Isabel. She relied on me, counted on me to protect her. To be her ‘Big Bro’. And I failed. Knowing that she’s been one of those… those _things_ all these years is…” A muscle spasmed in his jaw. “When she stood up and looked at me, I knew she was gone,” he added, his voice little more than a rasp. “There wasn’t any part of her left in those fucking titan eyes, but I still…I couldn’t…and you…”

He stopped short, and for the first time since he’d started his rueful monologue, he glanced over at her, as if only just realizing that she was there. His eyes searched hers. “Why did you do it?” He asked, voice clearer than before, more direct. “If you hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead and you’d be free. So why did you do it?”

Mikasa swallowed. “I…” _I felt your pain, your sorrow. I saw you were in trouble and I wanted to save you. I didn’t want you to die._

 _And why not?_ Came the nagging question. _Why didn’t you want him to die?_

She shook the thought away. “You _knew_ her,” she said instead, keeping the truth buried inside and settling for something that was also true but much less exposing. “No one deserves to be torn to pieces at the hands of someone they love. Not even you, Reaper.”

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, so long that Mikasa began to wonder if he could sense that she was keeping the real reason behind her actions to herself.

But if he did sense it, he didn’t call her bluff; he simply nodded after a suspended amount of time and looked back out into the trees. Quiet descended again until a rumble of thunder sounded somewhere in the distance.

Levi glanced up towards the sky, scowling. “This fucking storm needs to end,” he muttered. “Because if it keeps up, the odds of any of us making it to Rose are going to go from slim to shit.”

Mikasa stirred. “How many people did we lose today?”

His lips tightened. “Five. Possibly six; Jones should’ve checked in by now.”

Nineteen civilians left—little more than half the number they set out with. And if something had happened to Clio…

Levi was right: this storm wasn’t helping their chance of survival. “So what do you intend to do if the storm continues?” She asked, voicing her concern.

Another peal of thunder rumbled in the sky, closer and louder than the last one.

“It's not an 'if'," he said. "This storm isn't done shitting on us yet." His scowl deepened. "I think our best shot is to head for Eden. It’s a little off course, but we’ll be able to hold out there for a while if we need to.”

The name was not a familiar one. “Eden?”

“It’s a bunker—one that was used exclusively by Reapers before the vaccine. It’s bigger and better stocked than the ones we’ve seen along the way. It also marks the halfway point between Rose and Maria.” He paused, his eyes going distant for a moment. “It was our home away from home when we were out on long haul missions; it has touches that always made it feel more like a house than a bunker. Joc—” he stopped abruptly. “One of the other Reapers called it Eden as a joke, and the nickname stuck.” He straightened. “Anyway. The next bit of clear weather and daylight we get, that’s where we’ll go.”  

"Okay."

Levi was quiet for a moment, and then he turned towards her, his gaze landing on her throat and the necklace of savagery he'd left. "Fuck," he muttered with a doleful shake of his head. His brows drew together unhappily. “Does it hurt as much as it looks like it does?” He asked.

Mikasa resisted the urge to wince. His words had shifted her focus back to the pain she’d pushed to the fringes of her awareness, and it re-announced its presence with dull, throbbing insistence. “I’ve had worse,” she hedged, not quite meeting his eyes.

His dry chuckle was completely devoid of humor. “Probably never at the hands of someone you were trying to help, though.”

“No,” she conceded. “Never that.” A thought occurred to her. “What made you stop?” She asked, suddenly needing to know.

Her question seemed to take him by surprise. “You,” he answered, as if that should have been obvious. “I don’t know if it was your touch or your words, but somehow you got under my skin, vampire. You brought me back from the edge and it saved your life."

Mikasa almost stopped breathing. She began to replay those awful moments in the rain, forcing herself to relive it. Had she spoken aloud? She didn't think she had. In fact, she was almost certain she hadn't.

So how... _how_ had he heard her?

Levi's subdued voice interrupted her silent musing. "For what it's worth," he was saying, "I want you to know that I...I didn't mean to hurt you, to attack you like I did. I just...lost control. Seeing Isabel like that and then watching her..." He trailed off. The careful mask he kept in place so often was slipping further down with every word, and when he finally met her gaze, Mikasa saw a vulnerability there that she'd never seen before.

"What I'm trying to say," he continued, "is that I'm sorry." He tore his eyes from hers, staring down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Mikasa."

She felt his shame, his guilt, the weight of it so substantial that she felt the compression of it in her lungs, and without thinking, she reached out and grabbed one of his dirt-covered hands.

It was the first time she’d touched him for a reason other than violence or necessity, and when her skin initially met his, his hand tensed and stiffened like a petrified limb, shocked into stillness. But after a protracted second, his tension ebbed and he slowly turned his hand in hers until they were connected palm to palm. Then his fingers closed around hers, sealing the connection. Mikasa could feel the grit of the dirt on his skin, and underneath that, the row of hard calluses lining the pads of each of his fingers. She squeezed his hand gingerly, trying to convey something she couldn’t put into words, wondering if he was doing the same as he returned the gentle pressure.

A moment passed as they stood like that, hand in hand. Neither of them looked at the other, and Mikasa sensed that if they did, it would sever the thread of camaraderie they’d discovered, remind them of who and what they were, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to exist in this moment of simple contact where nothing mattered except the press of his skin on hers, where there were no barriers except for the thin crust of dirt between their palms. It didn’t make sense that she’d found the peace that had been eluding her for so long in the clasp of his hand, but she had, like a bird on the breeze that had finally found its long lost nest. She didn’t know if the feeling had been there all along, waiting for the two of them to find the right moment to discover it, or if it was something new, but she didn’t care. She was glad for it, and sad, because she knew that, like the pact connecting them, this blissful, momentary peace couldn’t last.

And it didn’t.

The rain started again, falling down on them, and the steady pitter-patter of the drops hitting the leaves and branches roused them from their moment of stasis and their hands dropped away from each other.

Mikasa took a steadying breath, pretending she didn’t feel the loss of contact as keenly as she did. She chanced a glance over at Levi, but he looked away as soon as she caught his eye, his hand twitching lightly at his side. There was no way of knowing whether or not his experience had mirrored hers, but she had a suspicion that it had.

There was no point in asking him, though; she knew what he would say if she did. She swallowed. “We should go back to the bunker before the storm picks up again.”

He nodded without looking up. “You go ahead. I’ll make one last sweep before I come in.”

Mikasa didn’t argue with him; he needed a moment alone, and she wasn’t going to deny him that. She watched him for a moment before turning away. By the time she reached the bunker, her clothes were nearly soaked through with rain, but still she looked over her shoulder.

Levi was on his knees at the foot of the makeshift grave, head bowed, rain dripping from the ends of his bangs and the bottom of his chin. Or maybe it wasn’t rain—it was hard to tell for sure. As she watched, he curled his fingers into the soft dirt and rocked forward. His shoulders shook once and then stilled, but his hands remained embedded in the earth, like two forlorn anchors seeking to hold on to something that they couldn't accept was already gone.

Slowly, with heaviness in her chest, Mikasa went inside and closed the door, leaving Levi alone with the rain and his grief.

 

**

There were at least fifty sets of tracks, and as far as Clio could tell, none of them were headed in any particular direction. They started and stopped, turned and circled, overlapped and doubled back, and some of them even wandered off of cliffs. To anyone who didn’t know what to look for, the remains of the partial, muddy tracks might look like evidence of some disordered stampede of animals, and the only logical conclusion Clio could reach was that a large number of titans had gotten caught in one of the more severe bouts of the storm and succumbed to the elements. Whether all of them had perished, however, was uncertain. The best he could hope for was that they hadn’t accidentally stumbled into Levi and the others.

Ignoring the weariness in his limbs and the uncomfortable, heavy weight of his soggy clothes, Clio began the tedious task of searching for the one set of tracks he couldn’t afford to lose. He’d been tracking this titan for days, just as surely as the titan had been tracking the group, and if it hadn’t been for the repeated interruptions of the storm, Clio was certain that either he or the titan would have happened upon the other by now. In fact, he’d been so close to catching the titan yesterday that he had forgone his routine check-in with Levi to stay on target.

And then the most recent, most turbulent chapter of the storm had commenced, and all of his progress had been lost.

Still, Clio didn’t let the setback affect him. It was incredibly frustrating, yes, but it was also out of his control. The best he could do now was make up for lost time and hope that the weather had also stunted or stopped the titan’s advance as well.

He searched for hours, flitting from track to track, sometimes following a set that seemed familiar only to have it lead nowhere at all. By the time the sun was low in the sky and even his exceptional eyesight was beginning to be impeded by the waning visibility, Clio grudgingly decided he would have to halt his search for the night and continue in the morning.

The moment he resigned himself to this, however, was the moment he saw them: the very tracks that had been eluding him for hours. They had been distorted by the storm, and most of them were partial at best, but Clio had been following them for days—long enough that he had all of the details about the size, shape, space, and weight of this particular titan’s tracks committed to memory. He would recognize them anywhere, and he certainly recognized them now.

As he realized this, Clio felt two emotions suffuse his spirits in the span of a heartbeat. The first was satisfaction, for _finally_ , after hours of backbreaking, unrewarded effort, he had found the tracks he was seeking. But the second emotion was not in keeping with the first. The second emotion he felt was dread, because these tracks were not aimless like the others had been. These tracks were purposeful, decisive, and they were headed straight towards the bunker Clio had left not two days earlier. And, what was worse, the tracks were not fresh: they were at least a day old.

_He’ll reach them before I reach him._

It was a fact, not a guess, and the certainty of it made his blood run cold.

Nevertheless, Clio Jones broke into a determined run. He had never been one to give up, and he wasn't about to start now. And, more importantly, he had a promise to keep.

 _Mind over matter,_ he thought. He picked up his pace, willing himself to defy the odds that were stacked against him.

Overhead, the sky opened up and the rain began again.

 

 

 

 


	10. Safety Is Never Certain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without explicitly giving anything away, I will say this: this chapter is not a happy one ~~(yeah, I know, when are they ever)~~. I apologize ahead of time for any feels this may cause.

_Captured Vampire Subject #13: After dissection, DNA yielded promising genetic binding capabilities. Strains 13a and 13b were injected into ten of our lab rats, with successful assimilation. Experimentation with strain 13c has been discontinued due to lethal side effects, including severe hemorrhaging in both hemispheres of the brain. After three months of observation in which test subjects have shown marked improvement in both sensory awareness and motor skills [see Appendix XVIII for full documentation], I am recommending to the board that strains 13a and 13b be tested on larger mammalian subjects.  
_

\- Excerpt taken from the lab reports of Dr. Elias Lindström, dated Year 3 B.T.

**

 

The guard on duty was not anyone that Armin recognized, though considering that his visits to Rose’s prison included only one trip prior to this one, he supposed that wasn’t altogether surprising. As he reached the door to the cellblock, the guard hefted her considerable weight to block his path and gave him a curt once-over while Armin surreptitiously did the same to her.

She was squat and beefy, but she moved and held herself in a way that made Armin think that her bulk was muscular in nature. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a no-nonsense bun, and her facial features were unattractively toad-like, a likeness that the pronounced wart on the corner of her upper lip only enhanced.

“Papers?” She barked, the word flat in a way that suited her.

Giving her a polite smile, Armin removed the signed documents from the breast pocket of his lab coat and held them out to her.

She looked over them for a moment, perusing them almost disinterestedly, and then she nodded and handed them back to him without a word. A second later, she produced a ring of keys from her belt and turned to unlock the door.

“She’s the only one we got in right now,” she said as she twisted the key and the lock released. “Second cell on the left. You have ten minutes. If you want to leave before your time is up, rap twice on the other side of this door and I’ll unlock it for you.” She paused, briefly meeting his eyes. “Procedure dictates that I lock all visitors in, so don’t bother asking me to bend the rules for you. I won’t.”

Armin’s focus had already shifted to what awaited him beyond the door, but he managed to nod. “I’m fine with the rules and the time allotment,” he assured her. “And I appreciate your help.”

An unimpressed snort was the only response she gave him as she stepped aside, but Armin didn’t care. He stepped through the door.

He didn’t start moving again until he heard the click of the lock behind him.

Rose’s cellblock was really just a long hallway that had been adapted for prison use. There were four small rooms on either side and one larger room at the end—nine holding cells in total. Iron bars had been installed in each of them where standard doors had once stood, and all of them were secured with heavy double padlocks.

It took Armin only six steps to reach the second cell on the left.

It was sparsely furnished, containing only a bucket in one corner and a worn pallet in the other. There was a threadbare blanket spread unevenly on the pallet and an untouched tray of food resting on top of it, but Armin barely noticed these details.

“Hello, Jenna,” he said, surprised at how much of a struggle it was to keep his voice even.

His lab assistant was sitting with her back against the far wall, her legs drawn up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, the posture making her appear pathetically child-like.

“Dr. Arlert,” she mumbled, her chin wobbling.

Armin regarded her coolly. She looked as fragile as she sounded—her thick chestnut hair in disarray, her eyes red and glassy, tear tracks staining both her cheeks. But Armin felt no pity for her; the girl was a consummate actress, and he had no intention of letting her feigned, doe-eyed innocence cloud his judgment ever again. All he saw when he looked at her now was the memory of her standing beside Hanji’s bedside, pressing a pillow over his friend’s face.

“I won’t waste what little time I have here with trivialities,” he said. “I have questions that I expect you to answer. If you don’t, I’ll recommend that you be turned out.”

It wasn’t an idle threat; with the support of a military commander, he would be able to make it happen.

It was obvious from the way Jenna’s face paled that she knew what that meant. “Please, Dr. Arlert,” she began, “you have to—”

He spoke over her. “Why did you attack Dr. Zoe in her hospital room?”

Jenna swallowed. “Dr. Arlert—”

“Answer the question, Jenna.”

“You have to listen—”

“Answer the question,” he repeated, infusing his voice with a bit more force.

“I can’t!” She shouted, bursting into tears. “I can’t!”

“You mean you won’t.” Armin stepped closer to the bars of the cell, ignoring her theatrics. “Hanji always treated you well, and you repaid her kindness with violence. Why, Jenna? Why did you try to kill her?”

She was still sobbing. “I…didn’t…”

“Yes, you did.” Again, the image of Jenna smothering Hanji in her sleep flashed in his mind’s eye. “Why did you do it, Jenna?”

“I didn’t want to!” She cried. Her whole body was shaking. “Please, Dr. Arlert, you have to believe me. I didn’t want to hurt her! But I had to…I had to!”

“What do you mean, ‘you had to’?”

“Because she didn’t die the first time and they were going to…to…” Her voice tapered off into a series of muffled sobs.

For the first time, Armin felt a flicker of uneasiness. “They?” He questioned. “Who are ‘they’, Jenna?”

Her eyes widened in fear. “No…you…you misheard me, Dr. Arlert.”

“Look at me, Jenna.” He waited until she did. “Who are ‘they’?” He asked again.

In response, Jenna squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head, hiding behind the messy curtain of her hair as she mumbled something unintelligible.

Armin tried to get her to repeat herself, tried to draw her out of the self-made cocoon she’d retreated into, but nothing he did seemed to have any effect on her.

Finally, he stepped forward and gripped the bars of her cell in his hands, playing the last card he had. “You were a part of it, Jenna,” he said. “A part of the research we were doing. You saw all of the progress we were making. You believed in what we were doing, in what we were trying to achieve—I know you did. So please, Jenna, please just make me understand. You worked with us for years, and you…” He paused. “I trusted you, Jenna,” he said, allowing the emotions he’d suppressed in an effort to stay calm surface in his voice. “Support for our line of work has always been precarious, and I’ve always been wary of interference, of tampering. But I never expected you to be the one to betray us. What you did…it wounds me more than you can possibly know.” He swallowed, trying to salvage his professional composure. “So please, at the very least, explain why you did it. Tell me why you wanted to sabotage something you yourself were so passionate about. Tell me why you were willing to betray and murder friends who trusted you. You owe me that much.”

Armin waited anxiously in the ensuing silence, his hope dwindling as the seconds ticked by and there was no change in Jenna’s posture.

But then, just as he was about to give up entirely, she raised her head and looked at him. “I still believe in our research, Dr. Arlert,” she said, and while her eyes were still glassy with tears, they were also guileless. “If I’d had a choice, I would never have done anything to sabotage us or harm Dr. Zoe. I respect her. I admire her. I didn’t want any of this.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “It wasn’t my choice, Dr. Arlert, but they…” She swallowed. “She was too close, and they knew it, so they…they made me…” She shook her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”

The skeptical side of his mind insisted that Jenna was simply spouting vague, conspiratorial sentiments to win his pity, but Armin had his doubts. Perhaps Jenna wasn’t the great deceiver he’d thought her to be, but a pawn in a game far bigger than he’d thought. Perhaps she wasn’t lying at all. Perhaps she really was the bashful, stammering, eager-to-please assistant he’d come to know over the years. But if that was the case, then the reasons for her actions were even more important to ascertain.

So he played along. “You’re saying you were forced to attack Hanji,” he said. “How? What leverage did they use against you?”

The question did not have the effect he’d intended.

Instead of answering, Jenna scrambled to her feet and shot forward, covering his hands with hers where they gripped the bars before he could step away. “Oh God,” she breathed, eyes wide in panic. “Derek…” Her fingernails dug into his skin. “Please, you have to help him. I failed and they’ll…they said it was my last chance…oh, Dr. Arlert, please. I know you must hate me, but please… _please_ help him. They’ll kill him if you don’t, they told me they would!”

The bite of her nails stung, but Armin ignored the pain. Whatever Jenna had done and whatever her true motivations had been, _this_ was not a manufactured performance. She was terrified, genuinely and deeply terrified.

“Who, Jenna?” He asked. “Who is going to hurt him?”

He would never know whether or not she would have answered him, because at that moment, the door to the cellblock opened and the burly guard stepped through. “Time’s up,” she said. Her small eyes widened when she saw what was going on. “Get back, prisoner!” She bellowed, charging forward. A club appeared in her hands, and Armin barely managed to extricate his hands before she brought it smashing down on the bars. “Get back!” She hollered again.

Jenna crumpled to the ground, dissolving once more into hysterical sobs.

Armin turned to the guard, hands raised in supplication. “Please,” he said, “I need just a few more minutes with her.”

“Rules are rules.” She grabbed his upper arm, her grip so tight it nearly cut off his circulation. “If you want more time with her, you’ll have to schedule it through the appropriate channels. Let’s go.”

And with that, she proceeded to tug him towards the door.

“Please help him, Dr. Arlert!” Jenna cried from her cell. “Please help my brother! I’m begging you! Please!”

But before he could even promise that he would, the guard shoved him through the door with more force than was necessary and closed it behind them.

The lock clicked with an air of finality, and that was that.

 

**

Armin wasted no time procuring the updated documents, and a little over fourteen hours later, he once again found himself heading for the cellblock to talk to Jenna.

When he got there, though, something was palpably different. The guard from the previous day was no longer there. In her place were two men and a medic. The door to the cellblock was open, and Armin approached slowly, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I’m here to speak with…”

The words died on his lips when he saw the body. It was covered by a tarp, but he knew with grim certainty that Jenna lay underneath.

“What happened?” He asked, a lump forming in his throat.

One of the men shrugged. “Suicide,” he offered. “She slit her wrists last night.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I blame the girl, though; dying here’s gotta beat being turned out, don’t you think?”

Armin ignored the question. “What happened to the guard who was on duty?”

“Dunno.” The man gave him a funny look. “Hey, who did you say you were again?” He asked.

“I didn’t,” Armin replied, and before he could arouse further suspicion or attention, he turned on his heel and left.

 

**

For the first time in over a week, the day was shaping up to be a good one. The sky was clear, the most strenuous part of the mountain ascent was behind them, they hadn’t encountered a titan in three days, and, almost miraculously, everyone seemed to be getting along.

“You’re smiling like that because you’re remembering how ridiculous I looked landing on my ass, aren’t you?”

Petra shook her head at Ed's question, her smile widening. “I promise I’m not. I’m just in a good mood today, that's all,” she assured him as he sat down beside her and grabbed one of the morsels still cooking over the fire. He’d fallen probably a dozen times in their training session, but it was considerably less than the number of times he’d fallen the day they’d first started. He was making progress.

Ed bit into the chunk of meat with gusto. “Shit that’s good,” he said as he chewed, his tone almost reverential. He swallowed and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “That girl Braus has got a gift.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Jean garbled through a mouthful of food.

Petra rolled her eyes. “Honestly,” she said. “Cavemen have better manners than you two.”

Jean tore off another chunk of meat. “Huh?”

Before Petra had a chance to respond, Ymir elbowed Jean and piped in. “She means that you two are eating like pigs. You shouldn’t do that in front of a lady.”

“You’re not a lady,” Jean responded, elbowing her back.

Ymir chuckled. “I wasn’t talking about me, Mule.”

“Yeah,” Cody said, giggling, “Ymir’s talking about me and Mom.”

Petra hugged her daughter a little closer to her side and listened as the four of them continued to banter about manners and whose were the worst. It was refreshing to listen to conversation that had nothing to do with titans, survival, or the weather, but after a while, she tuned out what they were saying and just focused on how happy everyone looked.

Ed and Jean had become fast – albeit strange – friends, and so had many of the other people sitting around the fire with them. Jillian, for example, had easily become the most popular person in the entire group. She was well liked by everyone, which was no surprise, really, given that she had a winning blend of maternal kindness and frank honesty that hadn’t been dampened by age. Petra enjoyed her company immensely, and not just because they had so much in common, although they did. In fact, the white-haired woman had joked with her once that the two of them were the mother hens of the group: she to the civilians and Petra to the soldiers.

It was a role she was actively engaged in at the moment, too, judging by the way she was wagging her finger at the twins, or - as Petra had secretly dubbed them - the Imps. Lyle and Lucy were  _always_ up to something. The only time the gangly teenagers weren't smirking or sneaking around was when Jillian was scolding them like she was now. Petra had a soft spot for them, though. While it was true that their mischievous behavior wasn’t exactly needed on a journey like this one, it did serve as a sorely needed bit of normalcy.

Besides, they never did anything too devious, and even if they tried to, Petra had every confidence that Jillian would put a stop to it.

“Can we, Mom?”

Petra glanced down at where Cody was tucked into her side. “Can you what, sweetheart?”

“Can Willie and I go play by the creek, just for a little bit?” She asked. “Please?”

Petra glanced behind them at where Will Brandt was standing. He was a year older than Cody, a chubby seven-year-old with a mop of blond hair on his head that looked as if it hadn’t been washed since they’d fled Maria. He was a quiet presence in the group, and while Petra knew that he and Cody had spent time playing together in Maria, they hadn’t spent much time together since. Now, Cody seemed to spend all of her free time with Clio Jones.

_But Clio isn’t here, is he?_

A flicker of worry for the missing man passed through her.

“Can we, Mrs. Ral?” Willie asked. “We won’t stay out long.”

Petra’s first instinct was to tell them no, but she stopped herself. The creek was small and less than a quarter mile from where they had settled down to eat—well within earshot if something should go wrong. Besides, the sky was crystal clear and they hadn’t encountered a titan since the day they’d gotten caught in the storm.

“What do your parents think of this idea, Willie?” She asked.

Cody answered for him. “They said it was up to you.” Here eyes were pleading. “Please, Mom, I swear we’ll be careful. And we’ll come back as soon as you tell us to. And Willie’s mom said she’d go with us if you say yes.”

Knowing Vivian Brandt would be there to watch them wasn’t exactly a reassurance – the woman could barely hold a sword let alone use one – but she was at least an adult presence and she could keep them from wandering off or getting into too much trouble.

“ _Please_ , Mom?”

Petra relented with a sigh. “All right,” she said, then held up a finger as Cody bounced up to her feet with a grin. “But you be careful, young lady. You’re a Ral; I expect you to be smart and safe.”

“I know, Mom. I will be. Promise.” She ducked down and quickly threw her arms around Petra’s neck. “You are the best mom ever,” she whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear.

Petra hugged her daughter a little more tightly. “And you're the best daughter ever,” she said, feeling content enough to stay in their embrace for the rest of the day. Cody, however, obviously did not share her feelings. A second later she was moving, and Petra watched as her daughter grabbed Willie by the hand and tugged him away, her legs moving so fast that Willie nearly tripped in an effort to keep up with her.

“You’ve got a right fine little girl there,” Ed said once Cody was no longer in sight.

Ymir arched a brow. “Does it make you want one of your own?” She asked with a sarcastic smile.

“Fuck no,” he snorted before glancing at Petra. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I jus’ mean that kids are usually disasters waiting to happen, but Cody's not like that. She’s a good kid.”

Petra smiled. “I know.”

Everyone fell quiet for a moment until Ymir voiced the question that had been floating in Petra’s mind for a while.

“So…” She began as she kicked at one of the charred logs still crackling in the dimming fire. “Anybody want to talk about what’s up with Cap and Fangs lately?”

“They seem to be getting along just fine to me,” Ed said.

“Yeah,” Jean cut in. “And that’s what’s weird. They’re acting like…like…”

“Friends,” Ymir supplied.

Petra shook her head. “It’s not as simple as friendship, though,” she said. She’d known Levi long enough to recognize the bond forming between him and the vampire. “They’ve been acting like comrades.”

Jean’s eyes widened. “You think Cap trusts her that much?”

“I know he does.” It would have been hard to believe, once, but recent history proved it true. Even when they weren't fighting together or scouting, they seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in each other's company. They'd even taken to sharing watch more frequently than not. “And I think," she added, "I think Mikasa trusts him, too.”

“Even after what happened during the storm?” Ymir asked. "I mean, I'm not one to side with Fangs on anything, but Cap's attack was pretty brutal and, well, it seemed unprovoked. I actually felt bad for her. You really think it's possible she'd trust him after something like that?"

Petra nodded. “I spoke to Mikasa afterwards, and as strange as it sounds, it was very clear that she didn’t feel any animosity towards him.” _I’m not even sure she blamed him for what happened or was ever angry with him at all._

The thought was a perplexing one.

Ed chuckled, drawing her attention. “If we ever do make it to Rose,” he said, “I’m gonna write a book about them. ‘Vampire and Reaper: Comrades in Arms’. The thing’ll sell faster than rooms at a new whorehouse.”

“This is, of course, going under the assumption that you’d be literate enough to string multiple sentences together,” Ymir countered dryly.

Ed was unfazed by her needling. He grinned. “Not only will I write it, I’ll dedicate it to you, love.”

Ymir made a face and Jean laughed. “Nice one,” he commended Ed. He glanced at Ymir. “Should’ve known you’d take offense at someone using a term of endearment. You’re all thorn and no flower.”

“And you’re all dick and no brain.”

Despite her amusement, Petra had to work hard to keep from rolling her eyes. “And _all_ of you,” she chided, getting their attention, “need to watch your language, because if my daughter overhears you and starts using your vocabulary, I’m going to give all three of you a beat down. Clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Ed said. His tone had sobered significantly.

“Good.” Petra turned her gaze on Ymir and Jean. “And you two?”

“Clear,” they both responded immediately, and Petra couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at that.

Jillian was right; she definitely was the mother hen of the soldiers. Cody was her child and would always, always come first, but this small band of misfit survivors had become part of her family, too. She cared about them, deeply, and, looking around at the three of them as they went back to chatting and bickering, Petra was reminded of what it felt like to have friends, of what it felt like to be in a squad. It was a feeling that made her somber heart swell with hope for the future.

It was definitely a good day.

 

**

“What’s taking your mom so long?” Cody whined. She was sprawled out on the creek bank, staring up at the sky. All she wanted to do was jump back in the water and try her hand at catching fish again, but Willie’s mom had told them to stay put while she went to talk to her husband about something.

“Dunno,” Willie mumbled, sounding every bit as bored as Cody felt. He was standing beside her, skipping stones into the creek. The small, smooth stone he tossed as he answered skipped four times before sinking into the water.

Cody propped herself up on her elbows so she could watch him more easily. “Why don’t you try it with a bigger rock?” She asked.

Willie laughed and picked up a stone by his feet. It was larger than any of the others had been. “Because…” He paused for dramatic effect and tossed it out into the water where it sunk with a goopy plunk. “ _That_ happens. Big rocks don’t skip.”

“Oh.”

Cody picked herself up off the ground and brushed the dirt off of her pants. “Can you show me how to do it?”

Willie shrugged and nodded. “Sure.” He turned, searching for another stone to use. When he found one he liked, he held it out for Cody to see. “Try to find one like this. The smoother the stone, the better it’ll skip.”

Happy to have something to do, Cody crouched down and began sifting through the stones scattered on the bank. Most of them were either too big or too small, and the ones that seemed to be the right size were all jagged and oddly shaped. Eventually, though, she found one that seemed to be right.

She stood up. “Is this one good?” She asked, eyeing her specimen. When Willie didn’t answer, she glanced up with a frown. “Hey,” she said, “didn’t you hear me? I asked you…”

The words caught in her throat.

Willie was facing away from the creek, a look of utter fear on his face. His eyes were as big as saucers and his mouth was hanging open so wide it looked like he could’ve fit his fist in his mouth.

And as soon as Cody followed his gaze, she knew why.

There, standing on the ridge above them, was a titan.

It was alone, but Cody wasn’t naïve enough to think that she and Willie would be able to beat it just because it would be two against one; she didn’t understand much about titans, but she knew that there were stupid titans and smart titans and that this one was definitely one of the smart ones. The way it was watching them with its predatory eyes, standing so still and calm while it flexed its claws, made Cody nearly wet herself with fear.

But she didn't. She forced herself to square her shoulders and think.

_You’re a Ral._

That’s what her mother had said, and that’s what she was. A Ral. And Rals didn’t lose their cool in the face of danger.

She swallowed against her rising panic. “Willie?” She whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the titan.

“Yeah?” Her friend breathed back, his voice shaking.

“When I say run, run, okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but after a second she saw him nod out of the corner of her eye.

Maybe if they were fast enough, they could loop around the creek and find their way back to camp another way. Or maybe they’d find a place to hide until the titan left. She didn’t really have a plan past that.

Above them, the titan opened its mouth, revealing a row of wickedly sharp fangs. It hissed and took a small step towards them.

Cody flinched. “Run!” She screamed, and then she took off, Willie on her heels.

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch the titan’s mouth curl up in a gruesome smile. _“My turn,”_ it spoke.

And then it was after them.

 

**

“They’re back!” Someone shouted, and Petra glanced up from the shirt she was mending just in time to see Mikasa and Levi appear from the trees.

Relief coursed through her – they’d been gone longer than planned – but her relief was short-lived once she saw their expressions. Levi resolutely ignored the greetings shouted in his direction as he strode into the middle of their camp.

“Pack up and get ready to move,” he ordered without preamble. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Petra passed the shirt in her hands to Jillian and hurried over to her captain. “Levi!” She called, trying to keep the panic from her voice. From her periphery, she could see Mikasa pacing the perimeter, and she knew that could only mean one thing: high alert. There was danger nearby. “What’s going on?” She asked urgently.

“We spotted titans wandering not too far from here. They don’t seem to possess much in the way of intelligence, but I don’t want to take the chance.”

He began to say something else but Petra was deaf to it. All she could focus on was the sight of Vivian Brandt running toward her. Running toward her without Cody or Willie.

An alarming ringing filled her ears and her pulse shot through the roof. “Vivian,” she said as the frazzled woman reached them. “Where are the children?”

Vivian shook her head frantically, her blonde curls swinging. “I don’t know!” She choked, tears clouding her voice. “I was gone for five minutes – _five minutes_ , I swear it – and when I came back, they…I couldn’t find them! They were just gone!”

 _How could you leave them alone?!_ Petra wanted to scream, a surge of anger coiling like a snake inside of her, but she bit down the urge to strike out at the imbecilic woman. She needed to keep a clear head, for her daughter's sake. “We have to find them,” she said. “Now. You and I will go together and search by the creek and Levi—”

“On it. Mikasa and I will search the woods.” If he was offended by her taking charge of the situation, it didn’t show. His eyes blazed. “We’ll find her, Petra. We won’t leave until she’s safe.”

Petra couldn’t even thank him. Her entire being was overridden with a maternal need to find her daughter.

She grabbed Vivian by the hand and jerked her forward with more force than necessary. “Let’s go,” she ordered, voice tense. Her temper flared when she realized Vivian was lagging behind her. “Hurry!” She shouted, and the woman did, hustling along after her as fast as her untrained legs could carry her.

It still wasn’t fast enough, and Petra broke into a dead run, leaving Vivian behind her.

 _I’m coming, Cody,_ she promised. _I’m coming._

 

**

Cody had never run so fast in her life. Her muscles were straining, there was a nasty pain in her side, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She was gasping erratically, and every time her feet landed on the ground the shock wave from the motion traveled up her leg, a painful reminder that the soles of her shoes were worn too thin to offer any support on the uneven terrain. But none of that mattered, because despite the pain she felt now, it would be so, so much worse if the titan caught them.

So she kept running, sprinting, panting, escaping— _going_.

Willie was behind her, barely keeping up. Once, she glanced back at him, just to make sure he was still there. He was, a pace or two behind, his face red with exertion. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his eyes were glassy with fear. She wondered if he knew that the titan was gaining on them. She hoped he didn’t.

Cody turned forward again, forcing herself to move faster. _Be elusive,_ she willed herself, thinking back on what Clio had said. She began weaving, zigzagging sharply at every possible moment, and for a minute it seemed to be helping. The titan started lagging behind them.

_It’s working!_

And it was, until Willie tripped over an upturned tree root and fell, sprawling facedown in the dirt.

Cody stopped and ran back for him. “Get up!” She yelled, hauling him to his feet. “Get up!”

He scrambled up as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. The titan was almost on top of them.

Desperate, Cody glanced around, searching. There was a ridge about twenty yards away, but there was no way to tell what was on the other side. If it was a gradual hill, they could roll down and put some distance between them and the titan, but if it was a steep drop or a cliff…

It didn’t matter. There were no other options and they had to try.

“Come on!” She shouted, sprinting towards the ridge. Three more strides, two more, one…

She stopped just before she would have pitched off the edge, windmilling her arms out for balance as her feet sent a shower of dirt over the side. She looked down, and her hope was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

It wasn’t a cliff, but it was much too steep to roll down, and there were jagged boulders at the bottom. They’d never make it.

Willie seemed to realize it, too. “What are we gonna do?” He asked, pleading.

It took her only a moment to decide.

“You run,” she said. Her voice sounded strange, foreign.

“What?”

She unsheathed Jean’s knife from her hip. “Run,” she repeated, eyes fixed on the titan standing now only a yard away. The chase was over; it had them cornered, and now it was watching them, waiting almost patiently to see what they would do.

“But—”

“Run, Willie!” She hollered at him, and he did. He ran away and left her there.

And then she was alone with the titan.

Swallowing the lump of panic in her throat, Cody held up the knife in front of her. Her heart was hammering so hard that she could barely keep it steady, and each beat that thudded through her bloodstream was so heavy that her hands shook. She took one step back, and then one more, but she couldn’t retreat any further. One more step and she’d walk herself right off the ridge.

This was it.

She’d dreamed of being a warrior almost her whole life, but she’d never realized what it would actually be like. She wasn't an impressive, invincible heroine; she was a terrified little girl who didn't want to die. Tears sprang to her eyes, pooling over and running down her cheeks.

“Go away!” She shrieked at the titan, crying.

Its only response was a wide, lipless grin.

It made Cody sob harder but it also made her angry, and, in an impetuous rush, she screamed and lashed out with her knife, aiming for its throat.

The titan was much, much faster. It knocked the knife from her hands before she made contact, and then it raised one of its clawed hands, and swung at her. Cody jerked to the side, somehow managing to just miss being shredded.

But the next one caught her in the stomach.

The titan ripped its claws into her skin and across her body, growling in pleasure as her blood coated its claws.

Cody realized dimly that she was on the ground, staring up at the sky again just like she’d done at the creek. She tried to lift herself up, but her body didn’t seem to be working. Her limbs were heavier than she remembered and there was something sticky and warm spreading across her stomach and staining the ground on either side of her, and yet Cody felt cold. She shivered.

A shadow fell across her face and she squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

It was the titan, she knew that, but his features were distorted and all she could focus on were the awful, pointed fangs.

The last things that Cody saw were the teeth moving towards her, a strange blur of motion from off to the side, and then the clear sky. She blinked, trying to figure out where the titan had gone, but her eyelids were heavy and she was so, so tired.

Cody Ral closed her eyes.

 

**

For a few hopeful, fleeting minutes, Clio thought that he would reach the group before the titan, but as he watched in mute horror as the two figures pitched over the side of the ridge high above him and came plummeting down through the air, he realized he was already too late.

They hit a tree at blinding speed, and Clio watched the two figures separate in a splintering crash of bark and bone. The smaller figure was hurtled away from him, but the larger figure came sailing towards him, stopped only when it dashed its head against a massive boulder not twenty feet from where Clio was standing.

Recovering from his momentary shock, Clio raced over, cringing in revulsion at the smell of titan blood. He inspected it for a moment, long enough to conclude that it was in fact the titan he’d been tracking all this time. It was still alive, but barely, twitching and growling in pain. There was fresh blood on its claws.

Clio wondered how many people had died that day because he hadn’t arrived in time. “I should have gotten here sooner,” he murmured in regret.

The titan snarled in response, and Clio silenced it with one slice of his katana.

Then he sheathed his blade and ran, searching for the other figure.

He found her half hidden behind two large boulders—a bloody, broken mess struggling to draw even her shallow, labored breaths. Her face was covered in blood and dirt, but he would have recognized her anywhere. After all, hers was the face that had frequently appeared in his mind over the past few days.

“Petra,” he said gently as he knelt down beside her.

She stirred at the sound of his voice. “Clio?”

“I’m here.”

She swallowed, coughed. “Is it dead?”

“Yes.”

“Cody…”

“We’ll go see Cody just as soon as we get you out of here,” he said, wondering how difficult it would be to move her. He had no idea the extent of her injuries, but judging from the visible damage, he imagined they were grievous.

“No,” Petra said. “It…attacked Cody.”

Clio swore his heart stopped. “Is she…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Petra tried to answer but a bout of bloody coughs stole her words.

“Okay, we need to get you out of here,” Clio decided, forcing himself to focus on Petra. He would find Cody as soon as Petra was safe. As gingerly as he could, he began to scoop her up in his arms.

He had only lifted her a few inches off of the ground when he froze, noticing the root that hadn’t been visible before. It was impaling her back, and while it hadn't been long enough to pierce her all the way through, the heavy pool of blood staining the ground below her proved that it had gone just deep enough to cause serious damage.

What was even more concerning was that Petra hadn’t so much as gasped in pain when he’d moved her and, in turn, aggravated the wound. And she should have. The pain would be excruciating.

Unless, of course, she couldn’t feel anything.

He swallowed, fearful of having his suspicions confirmed. “Petra…”

“I know,” she said weakly. A tear rolled down her dirty cheek. “I tried…moving, but I…couldn’t. Not below my...neck.”

Clio nodded absently.  _Full body paralysis. Tetraplegia._ The words surfaced in his mind with an almost clinical detachment. He vaguely remembered reading about the condition somewhere long ago, but he never thought it would hold any meaning to him beyond that of a medical definition. But now it did. Now it was the death knell of a woman who didn't deserve it in the least. She deserved to live a long, happy life, to watch her six-year-old daughter grow up, to turn grey and dote on grandchildren that would adore her. She didn't deserve to die here, like this.

But Clio knew, just as surely as the sun would set in a few hours, that Petra wouldn't be there to see it.

"Tell me how...bad it is," she requested.

"It's bad," he admitted, looking over her once more. Her head was a bloody mess, and her limbs were bent at unnatural, exaggerated angles. Her left leg had been so severely injured that a piece of her femur was poking through the skin near her knee, and one of her elbows seemed similarly fractured.

In some ways, it was a small mercy that her severed spine had rendered her numb to the pain. "Both of your legs are broken, and you've lost a lot of blood,” he said, the words so stiff on his tongue that they sounded mechanical. “There's also a tree root embedded in your back. I don't know how deeply it's pierced you, but I'm worried that if I try to move you, you'll...you'll bleed out. If I don’t, it might buy us some time to figure out...to find a way to...” He grimaced, and his composure fractured. Time wouldn't make any difference. He knew that. He wasn't a doctor, but he didn't need to be to know that spinal injuries, combined with blunt trauma, contusions, and a possibly punctured abdominal organ was too long a list of things to simply recover from—even with proper medical treatment, which wasn't available. There was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ that he could do to help her, and the only thing more painful than that awful fact was looking down into Petra's eyes and realizing that she already knew it.

The calm acceptance he found in those amber orbs nearly broke him. “I'm so sorry, Petra," he said, hating himself for sounding so defeated. "I...I don’t know what to do.”

"It's okay, Clio." Petra’s gaze softened slightly as she tried for a smile. “Hold me?” She asked, her voice so faint it was just a susurrus in the still air. “I know I…won’t feel it, but I don’t…want to die on the ground.”

Clio nodded numbly. He could do that much for her, at least. Once more, he scooped his arms beneath her and raised her up, this time lifting her until she was completely free of the root. Blood immediately began to seep from the wound, pouring like sand down an hourglass, ticking away what little time she had left.

Clio looked away. Dwelling on it would do no good. He gathered her slight body into his and sat back on his ankles, cradling her against his chest like he would a small child. Tenderly, he brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, clearing away as much of the dirt and blood as he could.

Petra looked up at him, and Clio could feel the warmth of her tears dampening the thumb that still lingered on her skin.

“Promise me something?” She asked.

“Anything,” he assured her.

A flicker of some deep emotion he didn't quite understand flickered in the depths of her eyes. “If Cody..." Her voice cracked over her daughter's name. "If Cody is…still alive, will you keep her safe for me?”

No promise had ever been easier to make. “Until my dying breath,” he vowed.

“Not only now,” she continued, and Clio could tell how desperately she was clinging to life to get the words out. “When you get to Rose, will you…watch over her…be her…guardian?”

Clio’s breath caught in his throat. “You trust me to do that?”

“I do,” she replied. Her voice was gradually weakening, and Clio had to strain to hear her. “You’re a good man…Clio Jones.”

_And you are an incredible woman and mother, Petra Ral._

He exhaled slowly. “You have my word that I will watch over your daughter,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Now and always. I’ll raise her as if she were my own. I swear I will do my best by her. And by you.”

It seemed that was what Petra had been waiting for. She sighed once and turned her head until her cheek was resting against his chest. Her gaze shifted slowly up to his, and Clio saw one last glimpse of her emotive amber eyes before they fluttered shut.

“Is the sky still clear?” She murmured faintly.

Clio looked up. “It is,” he answered in kind, his voice low and soft. “I think we’re finally through the storm. All I see is pure, cloudless blue sky and sunlight. It’s beautiful,” he added, meaning it.

From somewhere in the distance, a lilting bird call sounded in the trees.

Clio looked down again at the woman in his arms. There was silence now, an empty space that her waning heartbeats had previously occupied, and even though Clio knew that she was gone, a part of him kept waiting for the soft thuds to start again, for some unlikely miracle to bring her back.

But there was only empty, certain silence. 

“Goodbye, Petra,” he whispered into the stillness.

It was difficult to move, after that. Weighted down by guilt and grief, it would have been easy to just stay there, cradling her limp body in his arms.

But he couldn't. He needed to find Cody. He'd made promises to two Ral women and he intended to keep them.

He picked himself up and, with Petra's body secured in his arms, he began to walk.

 

**

They had just made it back to the edge of camp when Mikasa sensed him. She stopped. “Levi, wait.”

He drew up short next to her, glancing over expectantly.

“It’s Clio,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “And someone else." She sniffed the air. "I can smell blood.”

Before she had a chance to ponder who it could be or Levi had a chance to ask, Clio walked into view, his gait sluggish in a way it usually wasn't. He was carrying someone in his arms, and Mikasa gasped in shock as she realized who it was.

" _Petra_...?" Levi breathed, his voice full of disbelief.

Mikasa didn't even know what to say; she was as shocked as he was, and she hadn't even been close to Petra. She started to turn towards him, but Levi was already on the move, racing towards Clio, shouting something. Mikasa followed as soon as she regained her wits, her steps leaden.

“Is she…?” She heard Levi ask.

Clio nodded, and Levi snapped.

“What the fuck happened?” He roared, and Mikasa felt his anger, his grief, his turmoil like so many shards of glass in her stomach. “Those titans we spotted are miles from here. How the _fuck_ did this happen?”

“The titan that’s been tracking us,” Clio explained. His voice was hollow, deadpan. “It had a head start on me and it got here first. Petra…” His voice cracked. “They must have been fighting. I saw them come flying over the ridge, locked together, and…” His face contorted. “It was a tremendous fall,” he concluded.

Mikasa could see the moment replaying in his eyes, and a wave of sympathy overcame her. She hadn't known Clio for very long, but she could recognize the look in his hazel eye for what it was: guilt. Guilt that he hadn't been able to help Petra, guilt that he'd stood by and been nothing more than a powerless witness.

She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, to tell him that she understood, but Levi spoke before she could find the right words.

“Did she suffer?” He asked quietly, his tone now mirroring Clio’s.

The hybrid shook his head. “I don't think so,” he answered. “She was... she was paralyzed. She couldn't feel the pain." He paused. "I was with her at the end.”

Levi didn’t press him for more details. He just stood there in silence, trembling with unvoiced emotion.

A sudden cacophony of shouts made them all jump.

Ed was stumbling towards them, followed by Vivian, her son, and a few of the nearby civilians that realized something of interest was occurring. He was cradling a small body in his arms, and even if Mikasa hadn’t recognized the similarities between Petra’s blood scent and this new one, she would have known that the bloody bundle he was holding was Cody Ral. There were no other little girls in their group.

“Oh God,” someone cried. “ _Both_ of them?”

Ed’s gruff voice silenced them. “The little girl’s not dead,” he bellowed. “But she will be soon if we don’t get our act together.”

Faster than expected, Levi took charge of the situation. “What do you need?”

Ed shrugged. “Don’t know, exactly,” he said. “I’m not a doctor. But something to clean out her wounds, something to stitch her up with, and heaps of bandages, for starters.”

Levi nodded. “Get Jillian and Braus to help you—they’ve both tended wounds before.”

He started to say something else, but Mikasa wasn’t listening. She was watching in alarm as Cody turned her head and opened her eyes.

She paled. A few seconds more and Cody Ral would experience the same horror she had felt all those years ago when she'd seen the butchered remains of her family. She would see what couldn’t be unseen, and the image of it would be burned into her memory forever.

Mikasa had lived with that burden for five long years, and it was a heaviness she didn't wish on anyone—especially not a six-year-old child.

“Clio,” she whispered urgently, belatedly, as she stepped towards the hybrid, “you have to get Petra out of here. Now.”

He was in such a daze that it took him a moment to focus on what she was saying, but then Mikasa saw his eyes widen with realization and he started to move.

But it was too late.

Cody’s eyes locked onto her mother’s still form and, with a voice as thin and tremulous as a reed, she said, “Mom?”

 

**

Armin closed the door to his quarters and slumped back against its sturdy surface, heaving a weary sigh. He felt exhausted, defeated, and paranoid—not a sensation he’d experienced often before now, but one he was becoming worrisomely familiar with ever since Jenna’s death.

For three grueling days, he’d been attempting to investigate what he was convinced was Jenna’s staged suicide while striving to maintain a healthy distance from anyone who might be involved, and he had absolutely nothing to show for his efforts. No one he talked to had heard or seen anything, the guard he’d met on his first visit to the cellblock hadn’t resurfaced, and both the autopsy report and Jenna’s body were nowhere to be found. It was logical enough to assume that her body had been cremated, but as for the autopsy report…? The sheer fact that it was missing screamed cover-up, and that alone would have been enough to nearly cement his certainty that there were hidden machinations at work, but then the last perplexing, disturbing element of his search had been revealed and now his certainty was absolute.

According to the government, Derek Sayers didn’t exist. There was no citizen listed by that name in any official document. There was no birth certificate, no lodging assignment, no schooling information, and no evidence to support the argument that Jenna Sayers was anything other than an only child. There simply was no Derek Sayers.

Except that Armin knew there was.

He’d seen him once, briefly, when he’d stopped by Jenna’s quarters to drop off some unfinished paperwork. It had been a few years ago, but Armin still remembered seeing the child sitting on the floor, hunched over a sketchbook. He’d been so engrossed with his drawing that he hadn’t reacted to Armin in any way, and Jenna hadn’t introduced them. In fact, she’d looked decidedly uncomfortable about Armin’s surprise visit and had all but shut the door in his face after he’d given her the papers. She’d apologized the following day, claiming that Derek (the first time Armin had heard the child’s name) hadn’t been feeling well. Armin knew that wasn’t quite the reason for her strange behavior, but he had let it slide and told her that he hoped her son felt better soon, to which Jenna had blushed a furious shade of scarlet. _He’s my brother,_ she’d informed him, clearly embarrassed, and Armin had apologized for assuming things and dropped the conversation.

He hadn’t spared another thought on Derek Sayers until his conversation with Jenna in her prison cell.

_Please help my brother! I’m begging you!_

He’d tried to, he really had, but he was a scientist; he didn’t have the skill set needed to track down a missing person that, according to the government, didn’t exist in the first place.

Slowly, Armin pushed himself off of the door and walked into his quarters. He hadn’t eaten all day and his stomach was rumbling in protest, but he was too enervated to cook himself something to eat so he settled for boiling water for tea. As he went through the motions, so mechanical he all but tuned out what he was doing, Armin noticed something he’d missed before: a small slip of folded paper resting on the table in his dining area.

Frowning, Armin walked over and picked it up, inspecting it. It wasn’t something he had accidentally left there, and no one else (as far as he knew) had a key to his apartment, so how it had come to rest on his table was a mystery. Keeping it in hand, he did a quick scan of his rooms, making sure that he was alone. Once he was satisfied, he went back to the table, pulled out a chair, sat down, and unfolded the paper.

 

_Are you a risk taker, Dr. Arlert?_

_If you want to know what’s going on, you’ll have to be._

_To enter the game, go seek the sunrise tomorrow._

_Yours truly,_

_A Current Player_

 

Armin read it through five more times, his initial shock and surprise giving way to more complicated thoughts. Finally, he set it down on the table in front of him and leaned back in his chair.

He’d parsed it enough times to decipher it’s meaning well enough. It was a coded message, specifying when and where to meet. In this case, it was dawn at the only place in Rose you could watch a sunrise from: the old archive room.

What wasn’t clear was whether or not he could trust the message. Jenna had been the one to attack Hanji – first by injecting her in the lab and next by smothering her in her sleep – but she’d only been a pawn, not the person who’d orchestrated the attacks. Whoever was responsible was still out there, and while Armin didn’t understand the inner workings of illicit activity, he knew the principles well enough to understand what happened to loose ends. And he posed a large loose end. It wasn’t a far reach to assume that whoever wanted Hanji dead would also want him dead. Perhaps this mysterious note was a way to lure him out, a way to get him alone so he could more easily be disposed of.

Then again, whoever had left it had already been in his quarters; they could have simply waited for him to return home and killed him outright. Leaving a note and relying on him to show up at another location seemed like a circuitous way to go about getting rid of him.

He read the note again, pondering its possible origins. Unbidden, a childhood rhyme came to mind:

_Friend or foe, friend or foe…? If you have to ask, you already know._

Perhaps it would be wise to heed the message those sing-song words imparted.

Then again...

The strident hissing of the teakettle roused him from his reverie, and Armin stood up.

_Friend or foe?_

One way or the other, he would find out tomorrow at dawn.

He was going to take the bait.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, I know, and again, I'm really sorry for the feels. Before you brandish your pitchforks, though, please know that I did what I did for a reason. I care about these characters and it's hard to let any of them go, but sometimes for the story to move forward it needs to happen. I promise there will be a few good moments in the next chapter to make up for all the angst in this one.


	11. Not Alone

_Keep faith, sweet sister! The sun will descend._

_In blood did we rise and in blood shall we end!_

_Weep not, brother dear, over those who are gone;_

_We shall all meet again at the break of red dawn._

\- Verse taken from a battle hymn of the Second Vampiric War

**

 

Armin stayed awake the whole night.

Twice he tried to shut his eyes and go to sleep, but his mind was running a million miles a minute and his stress levels were too high for him to properly relax, so eventually he gave up. He started rereading old lab reports to pass the time, but that proved futile too. He couldn't concentrate. The words all started to blur together, and more often than not, Armin caught his eyes scanning the same line over and over again. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, he put the reports aside and just sat at his kitchen table, drowning in restless thoughts.

The night wore on like that until it was somehow time to go. As he rose from his chair, his stiff joints cracking in protest, Armin couldn’t decide if it felt like eons had passed, or mere seconds. He debated taking a weapon with him in case the meeting was a set-up, but all he had were his kitchen knives and he’d never used them for anything other than slicing vegetables and spreading jam on his morning toast, so he opted to leave them. Weapons would be of no use to him if he couldn’t properly wield them.

The walk to the archive room seemed shorter than usual, and before Armin had fully prepared himself for his journey to be over, he was standing at the door. He hadn't run into a single soul the entire way there, and his feeling of isolation was growing. Everything was quiet. There was no way of gauging what awaited him beyond the solid barrier in front of him, and there was no one around to act as a witness or come to his aid if something were to go wrong. He was alone and uncertain.

But he needed answers, and if he wasn't willing to take a risk, he would never get them.

_Friend or foe, friend or foe..._

Holding his breath and hoping that he’d made the right call, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And blinked in amazement. “Historia?”

She was standing by the window, dressed in commoner clothing, her long blonde hair braided to one side. She gave him a smile. “Hello, Armin. I’m so glad you came. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“I almost didn’t,” he replied honestly. He thought of the note. Historia might be here, but she was not the one who had sent it. They’d shared correspondence enough times over the years that Armin was very familiar with her handwriting. “Who—?”

“I’ll show you,” Historia interrupted. “They're waiting for us in the back. Follow me,” she instructed, but she stopped before she'd taken two steps. A wariness he wasn’t accustomed to seeing was pooling in her blue eyes. “And Armin…as difficult as it may be, please keep an open mind. I was in your position once, and even though it was challenging to decide what to do, I’ve never once regretted being a part of this.”

 _A part of what?_ Armin wondered, but he didn't ask and Historia didn't say. She simply turned and led him to the back of the archives, where the old conference table was located. As they passed the last tall bookshelf and the oval table came into view, Armin experienced a jolt of shock for the second time in as many minutes.

There were two people already seated at the table. The first was someone he knew well, the other a person he didn’t recognize. He tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to. The stranger was, for lack of a better word, _strange_. Tall, slim, with skin whiter than chalk, prominent cheekbones and full, coquettish lips, the person was androgynous to a mystifying extreme, and it was nigh impossible to even guess a gender. The only detail Armin could ascertain that left little room for doubt was the bright gleam of intelligence shining in a pair of pale grey eyes.

Commander Erwin interrupted his perusal of the stranger. “It’s good to see you again, Armin,” he greeted with an easy smile, gregarious as always. He gestured to the open chair next to him. “Please, take a seat.”

Armin did, noticing that Historia had taken the other unoccupied chair.

The stranger spoke as soon as they were both seated. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Arlert. To show my appreciation, allow me to bestow you with a small gift.”

A manila file suddenly appeared on the table, shoved towards him. Armin frowned and opened it, his mouth dropping open as he realized what it was. “These…these are Hanji’s notes,” he breathed in shock as his eyes roved over the familiar chicken scratch of his colleague’s notations. “The ones that were only partially complete the day she was attacked.” He closed the file and glanced up. “Who finished her sequences?”

"No one. These are her original notes. The fragmented work you found in the lab that day was an intentionally incomplete copy."

Armin's sense of unease deepened, as did his curiosity over the stranger's identity. "But how could you have known that? And how did you acquire her real notes?"

His questions were met with a smile, a cat-like gesture that might have been intended to be friendly but came across as predatory. “I think the answers you seek will be more believable after I introduce myself.” The pause that followed the statement seemed almost theatrical. “You see, Dr. Arlert, I’m Dex.”

Armin couldn’t hide his surprise. He knew the name, just like every other person living within Rose’s walls. Dex: rebel, outlaw, anarchist, genius, murderer—the list went on and on. A great many things had been ascribed to his credit over the years, namely things that had caused more than a little trouble to the government, but after years of whispers and rumors, Armin had begun to think that the man behind the name was no more than a myth.

And yet here he was, the notorious enigma in the flesh.

Dex cocked his head and smiled again, that same dangerous tilt of his lips. “I wonder, Dr. Arlert, are you staring at me because of my reputation or because of my appearance?”

Armin held the man’s penetrating gaze. “Both,” he answered honestly.

“Ah. Well, allow me to satisfy your curiosity. My infamy – such as it is – is based in fact. I have been working for years to undermine Zacklay and his puffed-up parrots, and my  _modus operandi_ take me well outside of the legal realm, though as you can see, I do collaborate with individuals who exist _inside_ the legal realm. My goals could hardly be achieved without doing so.” He paused. “As for my personal appearance, allow me to set your mind at ease. I am not – as many have ascribed me to be – a vampire. I am fully human.”

“A fully albino human,” Armin added quietly.

Dex’s grey eyes flashed. “Top marks, Dr. Arlert,” he praised. “Have you met many people with the condition before?”

“No one, but I’ve read enough about albinism to recognize its manifestation.”

Dex clapped his hands. “Wonderful,” he said, turning his eyes to Erwin. “You were right. He will be a great addition to the cause. If—” he continued, his gaze sliding back towards Armin “—you agree to be a part of it.”

“And what exactly is your cause?”

“Truth, justice, and freedom.”

 _Empty platitudes._ “Care to elaborate?” Armin asked evenly.

“But of course. Tell me, Dr. Arlert, why do titans exist?”

The question caught Armin off guard, but he decided to play along. Dex seemed to have a flair for the dramatic, and if obtaining answers meant adhering to some strange script, Armin was more than happy to oblige the man. “Because we created them,” he answered.

“Precisely. And why did we create them?”

“Haste and arrogance. We assumed that the success achieved in genetic binding between vampires and nonhuman, mammalian subjects would be comparable when tested on humans. We were wrong.”

Dex drummed his pale fingers on the table. “So you think it was a mistake?”

Armin frowned. Judging from Dex’s tone, the man obviously felt differently. “You don’t?” He countered.

“I don’t, because I happen to know for a fact that the creation of the titans was _not_ a mistake. It was an intentional genetic manipulation, the far-reaching consequences of which were well known to the people conducting the experiments.” He paused, pale fingers stilling. “You see, Zacklay and his inner circle were aiming not only to destroy vampires, but humankind as well.” His lips curled up. “I can see you’re finding this hard to swallow, Dr. Arlert, so let me divulge a bit more information.” He cocked a brow. “Did you know that Dr. Lindström, the chief geneticist working on the development of the titan vaccine, was a eugenicist?" He snickered at the look on Armin's face. "Didn't think so. Well, Lindström was fired from his previous occupation for dabbling with eugenic sterilization, which was around the time he befriended Zacklay. The pair had quite a lot in common—they even collaborated together on a treatise touting the benefits of government-funded genocide as a catalyst for natural selection. It was published under pseudonyms, of course, but I’m well-versed in graphology and Zacklay’s bold, heavy penmanship is extremely distinctive.” He paused. “I could expound on that and other matters for hours, but for sake of time, permit me to jump ahead to the trump card: Lindström, Zacklay, Reiss, Carter, and all of their respective wives and paramours arrived at the fortresses and bunkered down a full week before the advent of Year Zero. They knew what was going to happen because they had orchestrated it, and then they retreated to a safe distance to watch the show. It was no coincidence that Zacklay was promoted to Chief Commander so swiftly after the outbreak, just as the expedited election processes that resulted in Reiss and Carter obtaining governorship of Rose and Maria were not coincidences. All the planning had been done ahead of time, so when panic and chaos ensued and the death toll began to rise, it was simple for them to step in - seemingly in an effort to secure and rally the people - and assume power. And that was their goal all along, make no mistake: power. Which brings us to you, Dr. Arlert, and those papers in front of you.”

It took Armin a minute to compose himself. “Hanji’s notes,” he said at length, his gaze falling to the file in front of him.

“Precisely. Your colleague was making significant headway, I think, which is most likely why she was targeted and why Reiss and his confidantes went through such pains to have her killed.”

"You mean by coercing Jenna Sayers into attacking her."

"Yes."

Despite the shock waves still pounding in his bloodstream, Armin felt a twinge of genuine grief. “So Jenna really was blackmailed, then,” he said miserably. “She was innocent.”

Dex nodded. “She was, as was her autistic brother Derek. She acted as she did only to keep him safe.”

His grief deepened at Dex’s use of the past tense. “Was?”

“Reiss got to him before I could, I’m afraid. But, Dr. Arlert, these events are in the past. We need to look to the future.”

It was cruel, the way he so swiftly dismissed the Sayers siblings away, but it didn’t surprise Armin. There was something very clinical and detached about Dex, and it was obvious that his focus was rooted solely in his cause. It was more than likely that people – even those seated at this table – were merely peripheral to him, existing only to the extent that they served a purpose.

And yet despite that, Armin’s own scientific curiosity got the better of him. “Please continue.”

“You worked very closely with Dr. Zoe, so naturally when a source of mine recovered these notes, I thought there would be no better candidate to translate them and continue her research than you, Dr. Arlert. Was I correct in my assumption?”

There was no use in denying it. “Yes.”

“Splendid. You see, it is imperative that you finish what she started – what I believe she was close to achieving – and find a cure for the _Titan_ vaccine. I think we can agree that that is something we both want?”

 _Albeit for vastly different reasons, I’m sure,_ Armin thought. He kept his gaze direct. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you want me to find the cure?”

“Simple: because it will undermine everything Zacklay and all the rest of them have built. All of their power and wealth and conceit will be stripped from them. They will lose everything, and a modicum of long-delayed justice will finally be served.”

“We would also be saving humankind,” Historia added, looking apologetic on Dex’s behalf.

“Yes, that too,” Dex added with a wave of his hand. He fixed Armin with another grey-eyed stare. “I assume you share Ms. Reiss' humanitarianism, but it matters not to me. The question is, will you do it? Keep in mind that I am not asking you to cooperate with any other facet of my operations," he added. "You wouldn't have to be involved in anything you'd find unsavory. Your sole contribution to my cause would be to finish Dr. Zoe's work and share the results with me. Can I count on you to do that?”

Armin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at his friends. He didn’t trust Dex—not in the least, but he did trust Erwin and Historia. Neither of them would be foolish or desperate enough to align themselves with someone like Dex unless they truly saw the merit of his plans, especially since they knew what the consequences of their actions would be. Conspiring to harm any high official was enough to get you turned out, but actively working to sabotage Commander Zacklay was high treason, and the penalty for that was graver still. 

And yet Erwin and Historia were here now, sitting at the table with him. They'd known the risks and accepted them.

In spite of his own misgivings, that simple fact meant a great deal.

Which was no doubt precisely why Dex had asked the two of them to be here. It was a calculated move, but Armin also grudgingly had to admit that it was an effective one.

He picked up the file, which now felt as heavy as lead in his hands. “I’ll do it,” he said, his words similarly weighted.

Once more, the cat-like smile appeared on Dex’s lips. “Wonderful,” he said as he stood up and pushed in his chair. “Welcome to the game, Dr. Arlert.” He inclined his head. “I’ll leave the three of you to catch up.”

He glided from the room without another word or backward glance.

"Before you ask," Erwin said in the wake of Dex's departure, "the answer is yes. He's always like that."

Armin shook his head. "You must know I agreed to become involved because of you two. I trust your judgment." He paused. "But can I trust Dex?"

"No." Erwin's answer was resolute. "But collaborations can be successful even in the absence of trust, and we need Dex. He has more contacts than any of us do, and he is gifted in ways we are not. I have confidence that, with our cooperation, Dex will be able to overthrow the system of government as we know it and we will have the chance to implement a new governing body—one that isn't based on corruption and greed." Erwin leaned back in his chair. "I may not trust the man, but I have faith in his abilities. Just as I have faith in yours." 

"Thank you," Armin said, feeling a twinge of pride. Erwin was - in addition to being a personal friend - a decorated military commander, one of the shining stars of the Legion in its glory days, and even now, with the Legion all but disbanded, he remained one of the most respected, influential people in Rose. To be praised by him was more than a small ego boost.

But now was not the time to dwell on compliments. "So do you believe him?" Armin asked. "About his accounts of what led to the titans and Year Zero?"

Erwin nodded. "Yes," he answered gravely. "What Dex shared with you today is only the tip of the iceberg, but it is all true. I've done my own copious research over the years to verify his claims, and the evidence is damning."

"It is," Historia agreed. "I know better than most what kind of man my father is, and I know how carefully he guards his secrets, especially the ones pertaining to Zacklay. Trust me, Armin," she assured him, "you made the right decision." She glanced at Erwin. "It'll be nice to have another friend on our team."

Erwin nodded. "Indeed." A genuine smile brightened his face. "I'm glad you're here, Armin. I know that becoming involved in something like this requires a great leap of faith." His smile faded to seriousness. "This goes without saying, but if you ever need assistance, or if you ever feel threatened as you continue your research, please reach out to Historia and me; we are at your disposal."

Armin was about to express his gratitude when a thought occurred to him. "Actually, I may be in need of your assistance sooner than you think."

Erwin raised a heavy brow. "Oh?"

"The last live titan specimen is still secured in our lab, but I don't think it would be wise to proceed with experimentation there. Other than Hanji's notes and Hanji herself, that titan poses the most salient obstacle to thwarting our research. If talk of my experiments reaches the wrong ears, it's likely that our enemies will try to destroy the titan. I'll need somewhere more...out of the way to work, someplace more clandestine."

The room fell silent, and Armin feared that they wouldn't be able to come up with a suitable location. But then, in a small voice, Historia said, "I know where you can go."

 

**

Levi had called the bunker Eden, and now Mikasa knew why the place had acquired the moniker.

It was unlike any of the outposts they’d sheltered in before. Where the others had been cramped, sparse, and cold, Eden was spacious, furnished, and better insulated from the elements. It was organized into two distinct wings: sleeping and living quarters. There were five bedrooms and one large community room lined with bunks in the left wing, and a weapons room, kitchen, storeroom, and reading room in the right wing. It didn’t feel like a military outpost; if anything, it felt like someone’s home.

And it was, in a sense. Mikasa remembered how Levi had described the place: _our home away from home._

“So what do you think, Fangs—is this bunker great or what?”

Mikasa nodded. “It is,” she agreed.

Ymir chuckled. “Yeah. Now I know what all the fuss about being a Reaper was about. These perks are pretty damn nice.” She yawned. “Okay,” she said, shoulders slumping slightly. “I think I’m gonna go investigate a bed. I need some sleep.” She gave Mikasa a half smile. “See you in the morning, Fangs.”

Mikasa smiled back. “Goodnight, Ymir,” she said, watching as the tall soldier stumbled down the hallway.

In the beginning, sharing watch with Ymir had been one of Mikasa’s least favorite duties, mostly because Ymir had been nothing but hostile and distrustful of her, but recently their interactions had changed. Ever since Levi had attacked her in the rain and Ymir had helped her inside, things had been different. There was no more hurled verbal abuse or scathing glares. Now, Ymir was almost…friendly. Even her use of ‘Fangs’ seemed less like an intended slander these days and more like a term of genial teasing. She was still sarcastic and caustic all the time, but she was like that around everyone and Mikasa didn’t mind it. In fact, Ymir’s dry sense of humor often made their shared hours of watch pass much more easily.

Still, Mikasa was feeling exceptionally tired tonight. Maybe it was time to take a cue from Ymir and go investigate a bed.

She headed for the left wing, passing by the large communal room where the majority of the civilians had curled up to sleep. She could have joined them, she supposed; very few of them seemed afraid of her anymore or seemed to harbor her any ill will, but Mikasa decided against it. She required less sleep than the humans, but much quieter conditions. Even the muted pulse of a dozen heartbeats would be distracting enough to keep her awake.

She kept on walking.

The door to the first individual bedroom was closed, and Mikasa didn't open it. She knew that Jillian was inside with Cody. They'd retired there earlier after Cody had refused to eat dinner, and they hadn't emerged since.

Mikasa felt a pang of sadness for the little girl as she passed by.

The next two doors were open, unoccupied, but she passed by those as well, restlessness propelling her onward. The hall turned, revealing the final two rooms. The penultimate door was open, and the last one was shut. Mikasa remembered someone mentioning that the latter was Levi’s, so she walked into the other room.

It was different from the others, and it took Mikasa a moment to realize why.

Unlike the rest of the bunker, this room had been painted a light blue. It was the color of eggshells, inviting and calming, and although it clearly hadn’t been done by a practiced hand – the blurred lines and array of smudges attested to that – it was charming. Lived-in.

There was a small desk and a chest of drawers in one corner and a bed in the other, the white bedspread neatly arranged on the thin mattress. A slim stack of dust-covered books rested on the desk, alongside a chewed-up pencil and what looked to be a personal journal.

Mikasa thumbed through the books but left the journal untouched. Reading it felt wrong somehow, like it would be an invasion of privacy, even if the owner were long gone.

And Mikasa suspected that she (the room had almost certainly belonged to a female, judging by the garments in the dresser) was. The room seemed intentionally untouched, as if someone had wanted to preserve it, like a memorial for a loved one. _  
_

Mikasa sat down on the bed, and then, succumbing to how tired she was, lay back on the bedspread. There was a skylight above her, and she could see a scattering of stars as she stared out at the nighttime sky.

 _Eden,_ she thought. _A paradise amid chaos._

Levi had said that one of the other Reapers had come up with the name, and Mikasa wondered if it had been the Reaper who’d slept in this room. She wondered if it was the same Reaper that had painted the walls blue.

She was still thinking about it as she drifted off to sleep.

 

**

It was almost starting to get light again when Levi woke Kirchstein and went inside to get some rest. He walked towards his room, heading there out of habit more than anything else. He was well on his way to being exhausted, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Too many of his old demons were rearing their ugly heads for that. Still, he supposed he could go through the motions. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d doze off for enough consecutive minutes that he wouldn’t feel like absolute shit in the morning.

It seemed like a solid enough plan until he reached _her_ door.

He stopped, hands clenching at his sides as a wave of repressed memories came flooding back in an instant.

_Jocelyn._

It had been years since he’d been here, and even longer than that since he’d set foot in her room. He’d tried a few times, but the memories had been too painful to bear in the face of his grief and loss, and the evidence of her life had only made him feel the reality of her death all the more acutely. He'd begun to avoid everything that reminded him of her, with the exception of the boomerang she’d given him. For whatever reason – perhaps because it was the last gift she’d ever given him – he’d never been able to let it go.

Standing in front of her door now, though, he didn’t feel the agony he’d once felt. In the wake of everything that had happened since Maria, all the chaos and death and guilt, he almost craved an escape. Maybe if he could lose himself in a few happy memories of the time he’d spent here with Jocelyn, he would gain a brief respite from the pain of losing Isabel and Petra.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself in case his plan backfired like so many of them seemed to, and opened the door.

And froze, blinking in surprise.

There was someone in her bed.

It took him a moment to figure out who it was, but as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim light coming in from the skylight, he knew.

He didn’t make a sound or step farther into the room, but some sixth sense must have alerted Mikasa to his presence, because a second later she bolted upright. “Levi,” she said in surprise. She stood up quickly, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her voice still thick with sleep. “I thought your room was next door, but I must have misheard. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not,” he answered, surprised at how much he meant it. “This isn’t my room. I was just being…” His lips twisted. “Sentimental.”

Mikasa’s gaze flitted around the room, as if she were trying to discern what he meant. Eventually, some realization seemed to dawn on her, and she nodded slowly. “I can leave,” she offered.

Levi sighed. “I’d honestly rather you didn’t,” he admitted. Suddenly overcome with a wave of tiredness, he slid down against the wall next to the door until his backside hit the floor, and then he drew his legs up and loosely draped his arms on his knees. He didn’t have the energy or really even a way to explain his behavior, but in the end he didn’t have to.

Mikasa watched him quietly for a moment, and then she walked over and gently closed the door, shutting them in together. Her hand lingered on the doorknob in hesitation, as if she were unsure what to do next, but after a brief delay she joined him on the floor, sitting with her back against the door. She drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, the posture making her look almost child-like.

“I like this room,” she said after a while. Her voice was quiet like it usually was, all dulcet tones and fragile strength. “All the blue makes it feel peaceful.”

Levi felt an aching emptiness clench at his heart. “Yeah,” he murmured softly. “That’s why she—" He caught himself. "That's why Jocelyn picked the color. To create a reprieve from all the horror outside.”

He could feel Mikasa's eyes on him. “Was Jocelyn one of your Reapers?” She asked.

“Not one of _my_ Reapers – the five of us never had a leader – but yes, Jocelyn was a Reaper.”

It took Mikasa a long time to ask the question, but eventually she did. “She was more than that, though, wasn’t she?”

Her question could have been mere speculation, but Levi sensed it was more intuitive than that, that she somehow already knew the answer.

So, for the first time in seven years, he allowed himself to speak about Jocelyn and not hold anything back.

“Yes," he answered huskily. "Jocelyn was more than just my teammate." He leaned his head back against the wall, staring out of the skylight at the sliver of moonlight that was slowly disappearing into the brightening pre-dawn sky. “She was the love of my life.” He swallowed. “When I was younger, I spent so much of my time thinking that there weren’t any good people left in the world, that there was no one I could trust. My uncle Kenny used to say I was born with a chip on my shoulder, and maybe I was, but my shitty upbringing didn’t help. I fought to survive when I had to, and even when things got better and I didn’t have to live like that anymore, I still did. I was a pathetic excuse for a human being—even more of one than I am now.” He paused. “Then I met Jocelyn.”

Mikasa turned her head slightly, and Levi could feel her eyes on him, but she didn't interrupt. She simply waited for him to continue, so he did.

“Jocelyn and I became Reapers around the same time, but we weren’t friends. She was outgoing, popular, always cracking jokes, and I was the foul mouth with the shitty attitude. But that never seemed to deter her; she was always trying to include me, like I was some fucking pet project of hers or something. It pissed me off, and eventually I asked her why she was wasting all of her damn time on me.”

“What was her answer?”

He snorted. “That I was ‘worth the effort’, whatever the hell that means.”

A strange look crossed Mikasa’s face, gone so quickly that Levi couldn’t process what it could have been. He waited to see if she would say something, but she didn’t, so once again he continued.

“She ended up wearing me down when she needed a sparring partner, and it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. She was an incredible fighter—landed me on my ass more times than I care to admit, but she also had this insatiable appetite for learning. She wanted to try out new fighting techniques, master every weapon she could get her hands on, and she was always encouraging me to do the same. It was…" He shook his head. "I don't have a word for what it was. But training with Jocelyn always put my mind at ease, made me forget about all the shit in the world. It was freeing, I guess." The sentiment fell short of describing the way she'd made him feel, but most would, truth be told. The impact she'd had on him wasn't something he could put into words, mostly because he couldn't even really define it himself. All he knew was that Jocelyn had made him better, in every single sense of the word. 

"We started spending almost all of our free time together before I even realized it," he went on, "and for the first time in my entire life, things were good.” _The first time and the last time._ He tried to shake the words away, but they lingered like stones in his heart.

“I don’t know when exactly I fell in love with her, but once I did, nothing else really mattered. I would have left the Legion just to be with her. I wanted to.” It was something he’d brought up multiple times, in fact, and one of the few things that he and Jocelyn had never seen eye to eye on. He had no longer felt the need to risk his life every day since he’d finally found something worth living for, but Jocelyn had always been married to the Legion and its mission. She had often said she was willing to lose her life for the cause, and in the end, she had.

“After I lost her,” he said heavily, “I didn’t recover. I tried to, but I couldn’t. So I buried my memories and tried to forget, cut nearly everything out of my life that reminded me of her.” He glanced at the blue walls, remembering the silly grin she’d had on her face while painting them. “But now…after Isabel and Petra…” He moved his shoulders up and down in a tired shrug. “I don't know. I thought that maybe thinking back on happier times would help, even if the memories hurt.”

A small divot appeared between Mikasa’s brows. “And is it?”

“Not really.” Being in Jocelyn’s room hadn’t brought him any solace—the memories of her were still too painful, and yet Levi realized that he _did_ feel slightly better. He glanced over at Mikasa. She was still watching him, waiting, calm and quiet, and all of a sudden the truth hit him: _she_ was the reason he felt better.

“You helped,” he murmured truthfully.

Mikasa gave him a gentle smile that made something twist inside of him. “I didn’t do anything, Levi,” she replied.

“You stayed,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands. “You listened. You didn’t have to, but you did.”  

She seemed to ponder this for a moment. “I wanted to,” she said at length. “I know that sometimes sharing a burden can make it feel lighter, even if it isn’t.”

She shifted again, and Levi watched her move out of the corner of his eye as she adjusted her position, marveling at how silently and gracefully she did it. She turned until her shoulder was pressed against the wall and her legs were tucked beneath her, and then she placed her hands in her lap.

He’d never noticed how small she was before. She was taller than him, sure, probably by an inch or so, but she was slim and petite where he was broad and muscular. The fact that her slender body disguised such power would have been hard to believe if he hadn’t seen her prowess in battle firsthand.

But her physical strength was nothing, he knew, compared to her mental fortitude. She’d been alone for five years, left with nothing but her hatred for companionship, and yet here she was, composed and dignified, listening to him - the Reaper who was using her heart to blackmail her - talk about the Reaper he’d loved, trying to comfort him.

And it wasn’t just now. He’d nearly killed her after the incident with Isabel, and yet she'd been there for him then, too. She’d listened. She’d held his hand. She’d cared.

Mikasa might be a vampire, but she was also ten times the person he could ever hope to be. She was, he realized for the first time since he’d met her, _good._  

His sudden epiphany nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Fuck, how had he not seen it sooner? How had he been so blind?

He swallowed, wishing he could somehow make up for all the times he’d been horrible to her, that he could somehow show her the same compassion she was always showing him. He wanted her to know that she could talk to him, if she needed to, that this whole caring thing didn’t need to be so one-sided, but words had never been his strong suit and he didn’t know how to tell her, and in the end, he simply lapsed into silence.

As the minutes trickled by, peripheral things began to press in on his awareness—namely how uncomfortable he was. He was stiff from sitting on the floor for so long. His legs were asleep and his ass was going numb. He needed to move, even though he didn't feel particularly inclined to.

Just as he was about to, however, Mikasa spoke.

“It was nice,” she said, “what you did for Petra. The burial. Letting everyone say their goodbyes. It was worth taking the time to do that.”

 _Petra_. The last member of his old squad, dead and gone, buried in the earth before her time. His brow furrowed with pain, the numbness in his lower body fading back to the fringes of his awareness. “She deserved that much, at least,” he said thickly. “I knew it hurt Cody, but it needed to be done.”

He grimaced at the memory. Petra’s little girl had been there the entire time, clutching Clio’s hand and crying quietly, but when they’d placed her mother’s body in the ground she’d dissolved into such violent sobs that she’d torn one of her abdominal stitches.

“It hurt her now,” Mikasa replied, “but one day she’ll be grateful.” She paused and dropped her gaze, her fingers beginning to worry at the hem of her shirt. “I never had that moment,” she said, her voice so quiet that Levi had to lean a bit closer to catch the words as they slipped past her lips. “That chance to lay my loved ones to rest and say goodbye. I wasn’t there the night my village was attacked. I came back after it was over and I found…” Her face crumpled. “I found what was left. Body parts. Bits and pieces. Blood. So much blood.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Everyone was dead. Everyone I ever knew. And I couldn’t even give them proper burials. They’d been slaughtered so viciously that it was impossible to identify...” Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in her lap. “I couldn't even find the remains of my parents." There was a tremor in her voice that hadn't been there before. "I was the daughter of a Guardian, destined to be a protector to my people, and I wasn’t there to save a single one of them. All I could do was burn the horror of what had happened into ashes, and it wasn't enough. I should have been there. I should have died with them,” she said, her voice fading to a whisper.

She held her composure for a few seconds longer, but Levi could see it fraying, and, just as her shoulders started to shake, he reached for her.

It was almost instinctual, the speed with which he reacted. There was a terrible, choking moment where he could taste her anguish, where he could feel her guilt and pain and loss, and in the scant space of a heartbeat, he turned and drew her into his arms without a second’s hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Mikasa collapsed into him, her body coming to rest between his open legs, her side flush to his chest. She clutched at him, one of her hands twisting in his shirt, the other resting limply between them. Levi could feel the tickle of her hair against his neck and her unsteady breaths against his skin, could feel the way her body was trembling with emotion, and he tightened his hold, anchoring her, one of his hands gently stroking the back of her head, the other wrapping around her shaking shoulders. No words passed between them, but words weren’t needed; they were connected by something deeper than that, a bond that Levi didn’t understand but recognized was there, and as the minutes ticked on and she slowly calmed and relaxed, he felt himself begin to relax too, as if her inner peace was triggering his own.

After much too long and yet not long enough, Mikasa pulled back, putting just enough space between their bodies so that she could look at him.

She hadn’t shed a single tear but Levi could see the tide of them lingering in her eyes, like reflective glass in twin pools of deep black. There was something else there, too, something that made the breath catch in his throat.

Then he noticed the glint of her fangs beneath her lips.

It was strange; once, the mere sight of them had made him cringe in revulsion, but now…now they didn’t stir anything remotely negative in him at all. The pointed canines were simply a part of her, and there was nothing disgusting about them.

He realized he must have been staring, because Mikasa hastily covered her mouth and scooted away from him. She didn’t get far before the wall stopped her, however, her body gently thudding against its solid surface.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words muffled by her hand. She bowed her head, letting her hair slide forward until it was hiding most of her face. “I can’t always control…”

“Mikasa, stop.”

She glanced up at him warily. Levi could tell that she was worried about offending him, though for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why she would care what he thought.

Still, he might as well try to set her mind at ease. Trying not to startle her, he reached up and gently tugged her hand away from her face. “Don’t hide them,” he said as he lowered their joined hands to her lap, “and don’t apologize. Not for something like that.” _Not for anything, considering all the shit I’ve put you through._ He paused. “I don’t care that you have fangs, Mikasa. It’s not like I don’t know you’re a vampire. And if you need blood, I—”

“I don’t,” she cut in. A faint blush began to stain her cheeks. “It isn’t always about blood. Sometimes it’s just…an involuntary response.” She trailed off, her blush deepening.

Levi felt her hand twitch in his loose grip. “You really don’t care?” She asked.

“No.”

She frowned. “I don't understand. You’re a human—a hunter. You should care.”

He should. “I used to. I don’t anymore.”

Her hand twitched again, and there was something dangerous in her eyes when she looked at him, a hint of challenge flickering in their black depths. “Prove it,” she said, retracting her lips just enough to bare the full length of her fangs.

Levi didn’t cringe or grimace, nor did he have to consciously make an effort to refrain from doing so. He could tell she was expecting to call his bluff, to catch him in a lie, but what she didn’t realize was that he’d never been one to back down from a challenge, voiced or implied. His sense of pride wouldn’t let him.

But this wasn’t even a challenge. As asinine as it was, he trusted that she wouldn’t hurt him.

So he reached out with his free hand and placed his index finger at the very tip of her right fang, letting the pad of his finger brush against the sharp point.

Everything seemed to freeze, the moment held in a stasis where the only points of awareness were the kiss of fang to skin, the feel of her hand in his, and the slight tickle of her breath on his fingers.

Levi kept his gaze fixed on her. “Satisfied?” He asked, taken aback by how throaty his voice sounded.

Mikasa’s eyes were wide as saucers, but she nodded, her hand trembling in his.

He let his finger drop away from her fang, unintentionally grazing her lower lip as he pulled back.

She drew in a sharp breath, and Levi froze. The air seemed to thicken around them, and suddenly he was very aware of how closely they were sitting. His throat tightened and his pulse started to accelerate, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand.

He wanted…

“ _Levi…_ ” His name was a plea on her lips, a strained whisper that encapsulated the struggle he was experiencing.

He wanted to close the distance between them. He wanted to feel the dip of her waist beneath his palm like he had the night she’d fed from him. He wanted that sense of closeness, wanted to feel that connection again, wanted to feel her shudder as she slipped her fangs into his skin.

And he could see those same desires mirrored in her bottomless black eyes.

He didn’t know which of them moved first, but suddenly she was crawling forward, half-straddling his hips, and his hands were sliding up the smooth curve of her back and tangling in her hair, and she was leaning towards him, her whole body humming in his arms, and he was pulling her closer, his palms slipping towards her hips, and he could feel the softness of her lips on his throat and the graze of her fangs and—

Three loud knocks sounded on the door. “Cap? You in there?”

Awareness returned instantly, rushing over Levi like a torrent of ice water, and he let go of Mikasa as if burned, jerking away as she did the same.

He cleared his throat, trying to get control of his ragged breathing. “What?” He snapped, raising his voice slightly.

He could practically feel Kirchstein shrink on the opposite side of the door. “Uh, well, it might be nothing but I was doing my last round and I heard something. I thought you might want to check it out.”

Levi sighed inwardly and picked himself up off the floor, grimacing as a stinging sensation of pins and needles shot through his numb limbs. “All right. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.”

“Okay.” There was an indecisive pause. “Do you want me to wait here or…?”

Levi pressed his lips together in irritation. “I said I’d meet you outside. Clean the shit out of your ears.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ll just, uh, wait outside then.”

"Good. Go." It was times like this that made Ymir's derogatory nickname for him seem vastly appropriate.

He listened to Kirchstein’s retreating footsteps, waiting until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he moved past Mikasa and opened the door. She stepped back much more than was necessary to let him by, a hasty action that was all too transparent. She was clearly uncomfortable about their proximity after what had happened.

Still, her sense of duty got the better of her. “Do you want me to come with you?” She asked without looking at him.

“No.” His answer was so brusque that she flinched, and he felt bad almost immediately. “It’s not necessary,” he amended. “There was no sign of danger earlier tonight, but I told Kirchstein to report anything out of the ordinary just to be cautious. It’s probably animals. Just…stay inside. I’ll handle it.” He made the brief mistake of catching her eye before quickly averting his gaze. “Get some sleep, Mikasa,” he said.

He didn’t wait for a response; he just marched out the door and down the hall, mentally kicking himself every step of the way.

It didn’t make sense. Why the fuck did he feel this way? It was like he couldn’t think clearly around her, especially when she bared those fucking fangs of hers. One second he was in control, and the next…

Craving. That was the closest he could come to describing what it felt like: a yawning, voracious need that nearly clawed him apart—and _h_ _e_ wasn’t even the vampire, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t feel that way. But he did. Ever since the last time she’d fed on him, he’d felt it. That pull, that yearning for something he couldn’t define.

And a few things he most definitely _could_ define.

The blast of cold night air on his skin as he stepped outside was a much-needed, welcomed relief.

"Let's go," he barked in Kirchstein's general direction.

Thankfully, his subordinate had enough brains not to ask what was bothering him. He simply started walking.

Levi followed, half hoping that it wasn't harmless, small animals that had scared Kirchstein. Slaughtering a few titans would be the perfect way to clear his head.

 

**

 _My baby hates me,_ Sasha thought as she wiped her mouth and shakily picked herself up from the ground. She scowled down at the gross puddle of vomit already seeping into the dirt, her stomach somersaulting at the repugnant sight.

The nausea was particularly bad this morning—not that it had been particularly manageable any other morning, but still. This was worse. She felt clammy, dizzy, and even though she’d just emptied the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground, it was already rumbling.

Groaning, Sasha made her way inside and stumbled towards the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the way of food stored there, but there would be enough dried meats and plenty of millet to fashion an austere bit of breakfast.

She almost stopped back in the community sleeping room to wake Connie, but then she thought better of it. She didn't have the energy to deal with their issues right now, and spending the morning alone seemed a fair trade-off to avoid dealing with potential drama.

When she reached the kitchen, however, she realized she wouldn't be spending the morning as alone as she'd planned. “Oh," she said in surprise. "Hey, Clio."

The hybrid was tending to a pot boiling on the wood stove, and he glanced over at her as he worked. “Morning, Braus,” he greeted, giving her a concerned once-over. A frown line appeared in his forehead. “Have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Sasha was too spent to argue with him. She dropped onto one of the wooden benches framing the small table and smiled gratefully as he brought her a mug of tea. Her stomach lurched at the mild smell of it as she brought it to her lips and blew softly on its steamy surface, but she forced herself to take a sip, knowing that she would feel better afterward. She ended up drinking almost the entire mug before she set it down.

Clio joined her at the table a few minutes later, placing forks and two heaping plates of perfectly cooked, fluffy millet down in front of them. There was also – much to Sasha’s amazement – a handful of dried berries on the corner of her plate.

“Where did you find these?”

The hybrid shrugged. “In one of the cabinets. There wasn’t much left, but you look like you need a boost.”

“Thanks. I kind of do.”

“Sasha.”

She looked up.

“How bad was it this morning?”

She was tempted to lie, but what would be the point? Clio had a way of knowing the truth before she spoke it. She sighed. “Worse than yesterday,” she admitted. “But I didn’t sleep well, so that probably didn’t help.” Neither did the reality that there simply wasn’t enough food to go around, despite the game they hunted and the rations stocked in the bunker. Neither did the cold or the stress or the fact that Connie couldn’t quite meet her eyes anymore.

“That’s not all, though,” Clio said, acknowledging her unspoken additions. “From now on I want you to share my rations.”

She gaped at him. “I can’t do that!”

“You need to.” He shifted slightly, bringing the vampire half of his face into focus like he did whenever he was trying to make a point. “Remember, I don’t need to eat as much as a normal human. I’ll be fine with less.”

She searched his mismatched eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He paused, taking a bite of food and chewing slowly before changing the subject. “How are things between you and Connie?” He asked finally.

Sasha took a bite of her own before answering, stalling for time. “Better. And worse.” She twirled her fork, staring down at the tines. “He avoids me without avoiding me. It’s like…he’ll be there, helping me with something or talking to me, but his heart’s only half in it. I haven’t seen him really smile in days, or laugh. It’s like that part of him just shut down. And it’s my fault.” She set her fork down and forced herself to meet Clio’s eyes. “Ever since Petra…” She swallowed. “Losing someone like her proves that none of us is safe. Any day could be my last, or Connie's, and I can't stand the fact that we're not spending our time together. I want to make things right, for things to go back to normal. But I don’t think they can.”

There was sympathy in Clio’s hazel eye. “They can, Sasha. It’ll just take time. Keep working on him, keep showing him that you love him. Right now he’s still hurting, but eventually he’ll come around.”

“How can you be sure?”

Clio smiled faintly. “Because he loves you.”

His words set her mind at ease a little, and after that they lapsed into companionable silence. Sasha cleaned her plate without even realizing it, and before she could ask, Clio spooned a second helping onto it. She mumbled an embarrassed thanks and finished that one too, starting to feel better.

Which was when it occurred to her that Clio was still working on his first helping, pushing forkfuls of his food around in aimless patterns.

She didn’t have to ask to know what was on his mind.

“Jillian says that Cody’s wounds are healing nicely,” she said gently. “She even says the scars won’t be that bad.”

A troubled look crossed Clio’s face. “Not the physical ones, maybe. But she lost her mother, and now she’s a six-year-old orphan. That isn’t going to heal anytime soon.”

“No,” she agreed, thinking of Cody’s tear-filled, stricken eyes. “It won’t.” The little girl seemed to have aged decades in the span of a few days, like years of sorrow had been poured into the amber of her eyes. Still, there were traces of youthful innocence there, glimmers that appeared from time to time, usually when Clio was with her.

She voiced as much. “But she has you, Clio,” she said, wondering if he realized how much that meant. “And you’ll be there to help her heal every step of the way, just like you are now. Jillian says that the time you spend with Cody is the best part of her day, that your presence is the best comfort she has, and I believe her.”

Clio didn’t look convinced. “Why?” He asked listlessly. “Why believe something like that?”

“Because that little girl loves you,” she answered, borrowing some of his own logic in an effort to make him see the truth.

It was rare to see Clio look surprised; he was usually two or more steps ahead of everyone else on account of his erudition and intuition, but somehow, her softly spoken words seemed to completely disarm him. He stared across the table at her, his human features a caricature of bafflement.

It made Sasha feel like laughing for the first time in weeks. “Honestly, Jones,” she teased, a small smile stealing across her lips, “either your eyes or your brain must have taken a vacation for you to not notice _that._ ”

“Maybe.” His lips twitched upwards in a self-deprecating way. “Or maybe it’s been so long since anyone has associated that feeling with me that I’ve simply forgotten how to recognize it.”

Sasha sighed. “ _I_ love you, you dummy, and I have for years. Pretty much since I first set eyes on you and that ridiculous bun of yours. So that excuse is nothing but lame.”

A trace of humor flickered in his eyes. “Careful now,” he said with mock gravity. “Any more of those bun comments and I might have to defend its honor.”

Sasha stifled a giggle with her hand. “Sorry. Forgot how sensitive you get about that.”

“Sure you did,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he exhaled. “Thanks, though; I think I was in need of a good dose of Braus wisdom to set me straight.”

She smiled. “Anytime.”

Loud footsteps sounded in the hall, announcing Jean’s presence a second before he appeared.

“Something smells good,” he said as he strode into the kitchen. He stopped when he noticed their empty plates, a disgruntled frown twisting his features. “Aw, please tell me you guys didn’t eat all the grub,” he whined. “I’m famished.”

Clio snorted and stood up. “There’s still plenty,” he said. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.”

Jean brightened instantly. “Thanks, man,” he said, plopping down on the bench Clio had vacated moments ago.

He wasn’t the only one; minutes later, a stream of other people came pouring in the kitchen, and as the room got more crowded, Sasha excused herself and headed back to the community room.

Before she'd made it there, however, her stomach gave an ominous, ugly lurch, followed closely by a second.

_No, no, no. Not again..._

She barely made it outside before she was forced to bend over and throw up the breakfast she'd just eaten. She retched violently, only managing to keep her balance by clinging to the gnarled trunk of a tree. When the sickness finally passed, she collapsed onto her hands and knees, her whole body a shaking wreck, the inside of her throat burning.

_This isn't normal. I shouldn't be getting this sick. Something must be wrong._

She should tell someone. Jillian, maybe, or Clio. Connie, definitely. But she didn't want them to worry. Even if there was something wrong, what would any of them do? What _could_ they do? Real medical attention wouldn't be available until they reached Rose, so until then, she would just have to deal with whatever complications her pregnancy brought.

Wiping away the sweat beading on her brow before it could drip into her eyes, Sasha straightened up and placed a hand on her gently swelling stomach. "Hang in there, okay?" She murmured. "Be strong for your momma. I promise I'll be strong for you."

She thought of Cody, of the look on the little girl's face as they lowered her mother's body into the ground.

"That's not gonna be us," she vowed to her unborn child. "We're going to make it, you and I. Together."

_We're going to make it._

She chanted it over and over again in her head like a mantra as she made her way back inside, hoping that if she repeated it enough times, she might even start to believe it.

 

**

“What was it like?” Ymir asked, rousing Jean from his partial stupor.

He wiped at his mouth and sat up a little taller in his armchair, pretending that he hadn’t been all but drooling on himself.

“What was what like?”

Ymir snickered. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Mule, but I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Jones.”

Jean glanced over at the hybrid. Clio seemed mildly amused by Ymir’s comment, as did Mikasa. Cap, as always, didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

“Right,” he muttered, relaxing back into the plush chair. “Sorry.”

He could’ve been irritated by Ymir, but he wasn’t. The time they spent in the reading room had easily become his favorite part of the day, and her sass wasn’t nearly enough to spoil it.

It had become a daily occurrence, this strange gathering of theirs. The first night it had happened – their second night at Eden – the loss of Petra had still been fresh in everyone’s minds and they’d taken comfort in each other’s company. It had been quiet and somber, but it had also served as a kind of balm to the pain. Now, every night after dinner, the five of them would congregate in the reading room. None of the civilians ever joined them, though they hadn’t purposely been excluded. It had just kind of worked out that way, Jean supposed. The five of them – Clio, Mikasa, Cap, Ymir, and he – had become their own group in the eyes of the civilians. They were the soldiers, the fighters, the Legion…he’d even overheard one person calling them the _new_ Elite Five, not that Jean understood why. He was as far from elite as a person could get.

“So what was it like?” Ymir asked again, shaking him back into the present conversation.

Clio seemed to taste his words before he spoke them. “Painless, but…intense. It felt like pressure in my veins, a pinching sensation that traveled out from the injection site until I was aware of every nerve ending in my body. I remember that it was hard to breathe—like my lungs were too weighted down to expand. I actually passed out for a while, and when I came to…” He gestured lazily at himself. “I was like I am now. Different.”

“Shit.” Ymir stretched in her chair, arching her back and rolling her shoulders before slumping back. “That had to be a shock.”

A half-smile ghosted over Clio’s lips. “In some ways, it was, but in other ways it wasn’t. I’ve always been different. I’m fairly certain the nurse that administered my vaccine was scared of me before she’d even prepped me for the shot.”

Jean frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because everyone was scared of the Wraith,” Levi contributed from his seat near the wall.

"The Wraith?" Ymir exhaled, crossing one leg over the other. “Damn,” she said. “You really should’ve stuck with that nickname; it’s way better than the Mutt.”

Clio chuckled. “If I’d had any choice in the matter, I suppose I would have.”

“Wait…” Jean said, frowning as fragments of stories from years earlier cropped up in his head. When they clicked, he sucked in a breath. “Shit,” he exclaimed. “You were _the_ Wraith? The guy that took those crazy solo missions?”

“Yup.”

Jean felt a new level of respect for the hybrid. “Wow. So that basically means that aside from the Reapers, you were the biggest badass in the Legion.”

Clio shrugged. “According to some.”

Levi snorted, drawing everyone's attention. “According to _everyone_ _,_ "he argued. "Downplay it all you want, but I knew quite a few people who would have shit their pants faster if they found themselves on the wrong side of your blade than mine.”

“I doubt that.”

Jean did, too. Clio Jones could be terrifying at times, there was no arguing that, but Cap was another breed of terrifying entirely. Each of the Reapers had been renowned for their prowess in battle, for their deadliness, but it wasn’t everyday that people compared one of them to Damon, the infamous Reaper progenitor who had lived during the time of the First Vampiric War. Jean may not have been part of the Legion before the fortresses, but he’d heard the stories about Levi anyway. He’d known about the Captain’s chilling reputation years before he and Ymir had sought him out and asked him to train them.

“You know, maybe we can just all agree that you’re both pretty scary when you want to be,” Ymir said. She paused. “Scratch that. All _three_ of you,” she added, looking at Mikasa.

The vampire gave her a small smile. “The fangs help,” she murmured. It was the first time she’d spoken all night.

Jean saw her eyes flicker to Levi before quickly darting away, and he wondered for the umpteenth time that week just what the hell was going on between the two of them. Whatever he’d almost walked in on a few days ago had almost sounded like…

He stopped himself from continuing with that train of thought because firstly, what the actual fuck—Reapers and vampires didn’t do that kind of thing ( _did they?)_ , and secondly, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d misconstrued a situation and made a fool out of himself by jumping to conclusions. Whatever was going on between Mikasa and Levi, even if it _was_ something along the lines of what he suspected, was none of his business.

“You’re pretty lethal even without your fangs,” Clio commented. A pensive look crossed his face. “Were you trained by someone skilled in martial arts?”

“My father.” Mikasa tucked an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. “He was Guardian of my village, so he had to be knowledgeable in many methods of self-defense and combat. He taught me almost everything I know.”

Clio turned his mismatched eyes in Levi’s direction. “What about you, Captain?”

Levi shook his head. “Kenny taught me how to use a variety of weapons, but I gained all of my hand-to-hand combat skills through trial and error. Getting the shit beat out of you on a daily basis gives you lots of incentive to learn.”

“Didn’t you go through Reaper training or something when you joined the Legion?” Jean asked.

“We sparred and trained together, but we didn’t really have a teacher. Not that anyone would’ve wanted to teach me anyway. They barely let me in as it was.”

Jean gaped. “Seriously?” He asked, confounded.

“I’m with Mule,” Ymir chimed in, looking equally confused. “Why the hell wouldn’t they want a fighter of your caliber in the Legion?”

“Because convicts don’t exactly make good poster boys for the military,” came the sardonic reply.

“So the rumors were all true?” Ymir asked, sitting forward in her chair.

Jean did the same. Cap seldom talked about himself, and he _never_ talked about his life prior to the fortresses. Petra had warned them once that asking about Levi’s past wasn’t a good idea, and he and Ymir had listened. Provoking Cap just to have a few rumors confirmed or denied wasn’t worth the beat down. But now that he was talking more or less openly about his life, Jean’s curiosity was more than aroused.

“Not all of them,” Levi said. “But the one concerning my background was.” He hunched forward in his chair, dropping his elbows onto his knees. “I was in and out of prison for years before some of the higher-ups realized a person with my skillset could be put to better use than sitting on my ass rotting in a cell, so they sent Erwin to talk to me. They offered me freedom in exchange for joining the Legion, and I eventually accepted.”

“Captain Ackerman didn’t have anything to do with your release?” Ymir asked.

“Oh, my uncle had a hand in it, I’m sure,” Levi replied. “But Erwin was the one who made the suggestion that I become a Reaper. Conceited bastard swore I’d fit right in.”

That drew a small huff of laughter from Clio. “Well, it appears he was right.”

Levi’s lips tugged up very faintly at the corners. “Erwin always had a knack for being right about things. I was an idiot for thinking I’d be the exception.”

“Would you ever go back to being a criminal?” Jean blurted out. He had no idea what the hell had prompted him to ask such a question, and he colored at his own impetuousness.

But Cap didn’t seem annoyed by the question. If anything, he seemed faintly amused. “No,” he answered firmly. “Those days are behind me.”

“So what would you do?” Ymir asked. “If we weren’t here, I mean.”

He took a long time to answer, though whether that was because he was pondering the question or because he was reluctant to share, Jean couldn’t say.

“Open a novelty shop of some kind, perhaps. Maybe sell tea or coffee, something like that.”

Well, that was certainly not what he’d been expecting to hear. Jean had a hard time picturing Cap brewing tea for anyone, let alone running a tea shop. Then again, he couldn’t really picture Cap retiring at all. In his mind, at least, Levi was basically synonymous with Reaper.

“What would you do, Ymir?” Clio asked.

“Find my girl, for starters,” she said without hesitation. “But after that…” She shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t really given it much thought.” She cocked an eyebrow at Jean. “What about you, Mule?”

As strange as it was given their current situation, the future was something that did often occupy his thoughts, and he knew the answer to the question before she’d even asked. Still, it took him a long time to muster up the courage to share, and even then, he found he couldn’t look at any of them when he answered. “I’d like to be an instructor,” he admitted. “For the military. Maybe even a squad leader, if I ever got good enough.”

He waited for the ridicule, for the laughter, for Ymir to make some disparaging remark, but nothing happened. There was silence in the wake of his admission, and then, to Jean’s utter surprise, Cap said, “You’d make a good squad leader.”

Jean glanced over at his superior in shock. “Really?”

Levi pursed his lips and offered a casual shrug. “Yes,” he said simply. “Squads are built on the basis of being able to work well with others, and your sense of teamwork is one of your biggest strengths.”

“Cap’s right, Mule,” Ymir added. “You’re all about that harmony and friendship shit. I mean, you’re an insufferable dick most of the time, but you have more heart than anyone else I know, that’s for sure. And you’re pretty reliable in a pinch.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but coming from Ymir it might as well have been one, and Jean felt his ears getting hot. He cleared his throat. “So what about you, Clio?” He diverted, wanting to get the focus off of himself. “What would you do?”

The hybrid responded with an enigmatic smile. “Something I was born to do,” he said, an undercurrent of mirth in his tone. “I’d join the circus.”

That earned a chorus of snickers and snorts, and it even managed to elicit the ghost of a smile from Cap.

“Yeah, I could see that,” Ymir commented, grinning. “You’d make a fantastic bearded lady.”

Clio rubbed a hand over his smooth jaw. “Is that your subtle way of inferring that I’d look dashing with a beard?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eye. “Because I have to say, I think _you’d_ pull that look off more successfully than I could.”

Jean clapped his hands once in appreciation. “Nice one, Jones,” he praised, slightly envious of the way Clio always seemed able to turn Ymir’s snarky comments back on her.

Not that Ymir let it get the better of her. “You’re probably right,” she said in stride. “I’m already impressive, but add a beard and I bet the ladies would come flocking from miles away just to see me.”

“No doubt.” Clio turned to the vampire. “Well, Mikasa, I do believe it’s your turn.”

She seemed mildly surprised to be included, her eyes widening. “I…” Her lips turned down in a slight pout as she considered her answer. For once, her expression was unguarded, her features softened, and Jean realized that – vampire or not – Mikasa was, well, _pretty_ , in an almost delicate sort of way. It just wasn’t as noticeable when she got all fangy.

“Something quiet,” she finally settled on. “It wouldn’t have to be anything special or exciting—just something with a peaceful, simple routine.”

“Maybe you can help Cap run his tea shop,” Ymir supplied. “You can enforce house rules, threaten to bite any dishonest customers.”

Now Jean wasn’t the only one with a bit of color on his face. He felt a surge of empathy for the vampire.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed Mikasa’s discomfort, though, because a second later Clio jumped to her rescue before Ymir could exploit her embarrassment. “You know, Ymir, you should give some thought to private security yourself. You’ve got the perfect personality for it: blunt, bold, and confrontational.”

Ymir smiled. “Damn straight,” she agreed, and Jean noticed the way Mikasa visibly relaxed as the conversation moved away from her.

He also noticed the way that she and Cap seemed unable to look each other in the eye after that.

He didn’t have long to muse over that, though, because their conversation took a turn to other topics, and Jean got caught up in their discussions and the stories that Cap and Clio shared about their old Legion days. Even Mikasa spoke a little bit about her childhood, and it occurred to Jean, as they all sat there conversing like old friends, that something fundamental had changed in their group dynamic. Ymir had once joked about sitting around a campfire and making friendship bracelets, implying that it would never happen, and yet here they were. It wasn’t exactly the situation she’d facetiously described, but it wasn’t so different, either.

 _We are a team,_ Petra had said inside the mountain, and for the first time, as he observed the way the five of them were willingly and easily sharing each other’s company, Jean felt like it was true.

 _I wish you were here to see this, Petra,_ he thought sadly, even as he realized that, in some ways, it was her death that had been the catalyst for this new sense of camaraderie. If Petra were still alive, it was very possible that they wouldn't be here at all. _  
_

Irony certainly had a cruel sense of humor.

 

**

Leaving Eden was a bittersweet event. For the first time since Maria, they’d been relatively safe, and the Reaper bunker had provided them with shelter and supplies that weren’t readily available outside of its walls. Now it was back to hunting, scavenging, and bedding down in bunkers that could scarcely house them all. Eden was the only sliver of peace they’d found on their journey, and trudging back out into the unknown wilderness wasn’t exactly a welcome prospect.

But as hard as it was, they needed to press on. Rose was their destination, not Eden, and as nice a reprieve as the last seven days had been, it was time to move on.

No one spoke much when they set out that morning, and as the day persisted, so did everyone’s somber moods. Levi knew he should try to say something to rally them, that he should offer some encouraging words to brighten their bleak outlooks, but he didn’t know what to say. Everything he thought of sounded contrived in his head, which meant that it would sound like absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. So he kept quiet and simply led the way.

Mikasa was walking up front with him, a silent shadow at his side, but they didn’t speak. The only communication they had was when their hands accidentally brushed and he muttered an apology as he obstinately ignored the jolt of static he felt at the contact.  

Until, that was, she came to a sudden stop beside him late in the afternoon and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Stop.”

He did, feeling a wave of tired familiarity roll over him. Less than one day out of Eden and here they were, already running into fucking problems. If he hadn’t been so annoyed, it would have been fucking comical.

“How many?” He asked, resigning himself to the fact that they would soon be – as usual – in for a fight.

But her answer broke the expected pattern. “No, it’s…it’s not titans,” she breathed. Her voice was shaking badly.

Levi paused, hand partway to the set of knives on his hips. “Not titans?” He repeated, brows furrowing. He glanced over at her when she didn’t elaborate, and then he froze.

Mikasa’s eyes were wider than Levi had ever seen them and filled with such profound emotion that he momentarily lost his voice. It wasn’t fear or terror or wariness in her eyes; no—it was something else entirely. She looked like a starving beggar who’d just been given food, like a dying man granted salvation on his deathbed, her expression an exquisite, painful blend of shock and hope, and in that moment, Levi knew. He knew what the answer was before he even voiced the question.

And still he asked. “Mikasa,” he said quietly. “What is it? What’s coming?”

She turned her dark eyes on him as a lone tear broke free of her lashes and tracked down her porcelain cheek. "Vampires,” she whispered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I have a thing for cliffhangers. But at least no one died in this chapter, right?
> 
>  
> 
> _Anyway..._
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments last chapter. I hope all of you lovely readers enjoyed the update. If you wouldn't mind, please think about leaving a comment this time around. I'm not starved for feedback, but I'm certainly hungry for it :) Seriously, though, I really do appreciate each and every word you guys share with me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Broken Pact

_'What happens on this day will change the world as we know it,' I remember my father saying to me. There was fire in his eyes that day, and conviction. He believed what he was saying, and in the end, he was right. The world did change on that day. But it did not change for the better._

\- Reflection taken from the diary of Colette Fauré, the only surviving daughter of Commander Nile Dawk

**

 

It was like being in the midst of a dream.

Mikasa watched, mouth agape, tears frozen to her cheeks, as the five spectral figures emerged from the trees without a sound and took in the group before them with eyes black as midnight. There was tension in the air, and fear, and uncertainty, but Mikasa felt none of it. Instead, she experienced the feelings she’d chained down inside herself for five long years begin to flutter, the dormant wings of hope and wholeness that had been locked in the cold cage of her ribs finally unfurling and breaking free. It had been so long since she’d seen another vampire that the mere sight of these five strangers brought a sense of homecoming. Their skin was white as snow dust and nearly translucent, their eyes were lustrous and black, as were the prominent veins trailing beneath them, and their canines were pointed and bared.

They looked blessedly, heartbreakingly familiar.

They looked like _her._

They _were_ like her.

They were her people. Vampires.

She wasn’t the last of her kind.

She wasn’t alone.

In that moment, the staggering force of her emotions could’ve easily driven her to her knees – and it probably would have – if Levi hadn’t reached out and steadied her. Mikasa clung to his arm like an anchor as she shook. She wanted to glance over at him, to convey her gratitude, but she was unable to break her gaze from the five vampires in front of her, as if a part of her were afraid that if she did, they would fade to smoke and memory. So instead she just gripped his arm more tightly and kept her gaze fixed forward.

The smallest of the vampires – a petite blonde who was standing in the center and seemed to be the leader – noticed their unspoken exchange and stepped forward. Her expression didn’t change, but Mikasa could hear the curiosity and the underlying mistrust in her voice as she spoke. “Sister,” she said, the word both a greeting and a question.

Mikasa swallowed and inclined her head. “Sister,” she responded. “It is…” She was surprised at the strength of her voice. “It is good to see you.”

“Likewise.” The blonde gestured to the four vampires flanking her. “We are scouts of Clan Moravec. My name is Annie. My companions are Viktor, Bertholdt, Reiner, and Daria.”

Mikasa nodded politely to each of them in turn. Viktor and Reiner were large and muscular, by far the most physically imposing of the five, and both of them looked about ready to pounce—clearly itching for a fight. Bertholdt was tall and lean and he was standing closest to Annie, shadowing her in an almost protective way. Daria – a wisp of a creature with black hair that flowed down her back like a cascading waterfall – was the only one who offered Mikasa a smile. The rest of them simply stood there, withholding expression and judgment.

Mikasa knew why. She had briefly studied the different clans and their histories and allegiances with her father, and she knew that not all of the clans were friendly.

“My name is Mikasa,” she said. “I am of Clan Ayume.” It had been so long since she’d spoken of her people that the name felt almost foreign on her lips.

The vampires glanced at each other, and Annie’s pale brows rose high. “We’ve been under the impression that Clan Ayume was no more,” she said.

“You’re not mistaken,” Mikasa answered, fighting against the sting of grief she felt. “I am all that’s left of my clan.”

“How did you survive?” Annie asked.

“Chance. I was not there the night my village was attacked. By the time I returned it was over.”

“We know the account,” Annie said. “Yours wasn’t the only clan lost in the early days. What I meant was how did you survive all this time? Were you taken in by another clan?”

Mikasa shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know that any other clans survived. I’ve looked for others over the years but I've never found anyone. I thought I was the only one of us left.”

Reiner looked dumbfounded. “You’ve spent five years alone in these woods?”

“Yes.”

Reiner shook his head, his incredulity spreading to the others.

All except for Annie. “Not entirely alone, it seems,” she said coldly, her eyes passing over the humans.

Mikasa felt a twinge of warning shoot up her spine. She glanced around, the delicateness of the situation finally dawning on her. The humans had formed a defensive line, with Levi and the other hunters at the forefront. Their stances were defensive and each and every one of them had hands either on or inching towards their weapons.

The vampires were similarly prepped for a fight—the way they were flanking their leader was not coincidence, and all of them already had their fangs extended.

The battlefield had been primed since the groups had first laid eyes on each other. In her shock, Mikasa had simply failed to notice. It occurred to her that _she_ was probably the reason why the vampires hadn’t attacked outright; they hadn’t expected to see one of their own amidst humans, and their subsequent curiosity and confusion had stayed their attack. But their uncertainties wouldn’t be enough to keep the peace. Eventually, the fighting would start.

If Mikasa didn’t find a way to diffuse the situation before the tension boiled over, there would be bloodshed.

She stepped forward, away from Levi and the others. “No,” she agreed. “Not entirely alone. I’ve been traveling with these humans for some time now.”

“Of your own volition?”

“Yes,” she replied, with more ease than she’d expected. “We have an arrangement.”

“Please explain.”

Mikasa wasn’t foolish enough to think that it was a request. She glanced back at Levi, but he was staring at the vampires, his expression unnervingly flat. Mikasa knew he was sizing up his opponents, strategizing the most effective way to dispatch them.

She returned her gaze to Annie. “After their home was destroyed, this human saved my life,” she said, gesturing towards Levi. “As payment for my debt, I agreed to escort them to one of their other fortresses.”

Annie didn’t look convinced. “And why would a human save a vampire’s life?” She questioned.

Mikasa blanked, floundering as she racked her brain for a believable answer.

Levi noticed her struggle immediately. “Because I saw her fight,” he filled in smoothly. “She shredded through multiple titans in seconds. It was impressive, and vampire or not, I knew she’d make a useful ally. So when the tide of her fight turned against her, I intervened.”

Annie didn’t respond directly to Levi. In fact, she looked disgusted that he’d dared to speak to her. But his words did seem to have the desired effect. “Very well,” she relented, addressing Mikasa. “Am I right in assuming, then, that you may leave at any time? That this is an amicable arrangement between you and these humans?”

Mikasa nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes,” she lied, well aware of how different her answer would have been a month ago. “I am free to stay or go as I choose.”

The hulking blond – Reiner – stepped over and whispered something in Annie’s ear, and a second later the petite vampire nodded. “I agree,” she said. She retracted her fangs. “Reiner thinks we should extend you an invitation to join us, and I second the notion. If you survived out here, alone, you are obviously a very capable fighter and we would be glad to have you. You are also a sister in need, and we do not turn our backs on our own, especially not in times such as these. You are welcome to travel with us.”

Mikasa felt something dangerously close to hope begin to bloom in her chest. “Where are you going?”

“We are headed north, to attend a meeting of the remaining clans. Like you, we’ve faced attacks and devastation here in these southern lands. It is time we bolster our strength and band together. The rest of our party is camped a few miles northeast of here. We backtracked only to find out who you were after we caught your group's scent. We will be setting out again in the morning.” She paused, her tone softening slightly. “Come with us, Mikasa. You don’t have to be alone anymore, walking among enemies. Travel north with us and rejoin your people.”

Mikasa said nothing.

For five long years, she had been on her own. She hadn’t been the last of her kind, but she’d _felt_ like the last of her kind, and the heaviness of that burden had eaten away at her day in and day out. And now, in the span of a few minutes, the albatross of her sorrow was lifting. She was no longer alone. Here, standing in front of her, was a group of her own people, offering her the very thing she’d scarcely allowed herself to dream of even in her weakest moments. She could have friends again, and family. She could carry on the name of her clan. She could be with her own kind, no longer an outsider or a pariah, no longer feared or hated simply because of what she was.

Acceptance. Belonging. Love.

They were things Mikasa had resigned herself to never experiencing again, and now she had a chance at all three.

She glanced over at Levi.

He still had her heart, but he wasn’t a fool; he wouldn’t risk using it as a bargaining chip to force her to stay because it would put his people at risk. Mikasa had said she could leave whenever she chose, and it was true. If she chose to go, Levi would have to return her heart. If he didn’t, the charade would collapse and the vampires would attack. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to keep her from walking away, and as Levi met her eyes, Mikasa could tell that he was well aware of that fact.

Her freedom, at long last, was within reach.

_And yet…_

A flood of recent memories came rushing in: Sasha and Connie going out of their way to include her, Clio, Jean, and Ymir fighting at her side, Levi giving her his blood, Levi holding her as she fell to pieces, Levi…

“Well, Mikasa?” Annie pressed.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she met the blonde’s unwavering gaze. “I am both grateful and honored by your invitation, but I…I must decline. As much as I would like to go with you, I made a promise to these humans, and I keep my promises.”

It was clearly not the answer Annie had been expecting, but she covered her surprise well. “So you will not be joining us.”

“No,” Mikasa answered, crumpling inwardly.

“What if I tell you that, in deference to the promise you made, we will spare these humans? Would that change your answer?”

“No, because I still have to fulfill my promise. Though I do hope that you will leave peacefully,” she added, her voice dropping a decibel. “I do not want to fight you in order to uphold my word of honor.”

Annie nodded slowly. “As you wish.” She motioned to the others. “As I mentioned before, we are camped not far from here. If you change your mind, know that our offer stands. And fear not: either way, we will not harm these humans.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa managed.

Annie inclined her head, and then turned away, the other four vampires following after her. Only Daria paused and glanced over her shoulder, giving Mikasa a bemused frown. “Lucky blood bags,” she murmured before shaking her head and catching up to the others.

Mikasa stared after them, her sense of loneliness returning as she watched the only members of her species she’d seen in five long years disappear from sight. The weight of her renewed grief settled in her chest like a hollow ache, so much worse than before.

_They’re gone. I’m alone again._

She buckled where she stood, collapsing to her knees.

A chorus of concerned voiced surrounded her, and seconds later she heard Levi’s firm voice telling everyone to _back the fuck up, let her breathe._

Mikasa’s head was swimming by the time Clio knelt down in front of her. He tipped her chin up. “Mikasa, can you hear me?” He asked.

His voice sounded fuzzy, and Mikasa wondered if she was in shock. She nodded anyway, and he helped her to her feet.

“C’mon,” he said, urging her forward with gentle hands. “Let’s take a walk.”

He led her gently by the hand and she followed numbly. She felt Levi watching her but she didn't meet his gaze. She didn't meet anyone's gaze. She just followed after Clio, wondering why she'd willingly given up her one chance at freedom, her one chance to be with her own kind.

But the problem was, she wasn't really wondering. She knew why she'd done it.

And that made it all the worse.

 

**

Even after spending days equipping the subbasement space to make it functional as a holding facility and a lab, Armin still hadn’t warmed up to the place—physically or figuratively.

Ostensibly, the space was little more than a dim, dank dungeon, but a closer inspection revealed that it was much less kind than that. Decades prior, it had served as the Guard’s primary interrogation chamber, and evidence of the horrors that had taken place were still visible everywhere. There were manacles affixed to the wall and more hanging down from various places in the ceiling, and tools resting beneath coats of dust on tables lining the walls, knives and nails and shears and hooks that were speckled with what Armin hoped was only rust. There were also cages of varying sizes littered in one corner, and strange wooden and metal contraptions that Armin didn’t want to know the function of. All in all, the room was a terrible, well-preserved example of some of humanity’s least humane operations.

But Historia had been right: it was also the perfect place to work in isolated, secure solitude.

Repressing the urge to shiver just like he did whenever he entered the glorified torture chamber, Armin placed Hanji’s notes down on a stone table and spread out the charts he’d been tinkering with before looking up at the barred cell at the back of the room.

Two black eyes stared back at him, unblinking and flat.

Armin studied the notes one last time, unnecessarily, considering they were all but imprinted in his brain by this point, and picked up the cattle prod. The syringe was affixed to the end, giving him a good five feet of extra arm length, meaning that he wouldn’t have to get too close to the titan to administer the injection.

Now all he had to do was act. He tightened his grip on the cattle prod, willing himself to move while the titan watched him from behind its bars, and then he began to second guess himself.

_Hanji should be here for this. Not me. This was her research, her formula. She should be the one administering the injection. This isn’t the way things should be._

But there was nothing he could do to change the situation, and there was no one else more qualified to take Hanji’s place.

“I hope you’re not getting cold feet, Dr. Arlert.”

Armin turned in surprise, glancing back at where Dex was leaning against the door frame with his arms and ankles crossed. The albino man had insisted on accompanying Armin for this particular phase of the research, but he'd been so quiet since their arrival that Armin had all but forgotten he was there.

“I was just thinking that Dr. Zoe should be here,” Armin said at length.

Dex cocked his head at that, making his already unassuming posture look even more nonchalant. Only his eyes hinted that he was intensely, almost disconcertingly focused. “It was her notes that brought you here,” he said quietly, “so in a way, Dr. Zoe _is_ here.”

The sentiment could have been comforting, had it been spoken by someone else, but there was no warmth in Dex’s eyes and even less in his voice.

Still, it was the motivation Armin needed.

Taking a deep breath, he strode forward with the cattle prod extended.

The titan bared its teeth as he neared and then threw itself against the bars in agitation, using its clawed hands to try and pry the bars apart. There was fury in its black eyes, and bloodlust, and if it weren't for the bars, Armin knew the manic creature would have torn his throat out.

Suddenly, there was a worrisome splintering sound, and, startled into action, Armin jabbed the end of the cattle prod through the bars and sank the needle into the titan’s chest, depressing the small trigger.

The titan released the bars and reared back so violently that it nearly ripped the cattle prod from Armin’s hands, but Armin managed to retain his balance and his grip. He stumbled back, breathing hard, and then he looked at the syringe, hoping that he’d been successful.

He had been.

The syringe was empty.

Suddenly, Dex was at his side. He had his hands in his pockets and his cool eyes were fixed on the titan. “Now what?” he asked in a tone so disinterested that he could have been inquiring about the time.

Armin looked into the cell, where the titan was now shuddering and growling. It had curled into a small ball in the center of the cell and was clawing at the ground. There were no immediate changes in its appearance or mannerisms, but then again, Armin would have been surprised if there had been. Only time would tell if Hanji's final breakthrough had been _the_ breakthrough.

“Now,” Armin said, answering Dex's question, “we wait.”

 

**

Ymir yawned and rolled her shoulders, punctuating the crack of her joints with a weary sigh. It had been a long day, and the two hours of troubled rest she’d gotten before her watch had felt more like a tease of relief than an actual reprieve. Granted, that was probably because she hadn't really slept. Not that she'd expected to. Knowing that there were fucking vampires camped out a few measly miles away was more than enough to make her toss and turn with paranoia, because hey—trusting Fangs was one thing, but other vampires...? No fucking way. They hadn't attacked earlier, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't change their minds and come back. And if the vamps _did_ decide to do a little late night snacking and they returned while Fangs and Jones were off doing who-knew-what, Ymir didn't imagine it would end well.

Needless to say, the situation had fried her nerves (along with everyone else's) and now she was stiff, tired, and there was a nasty headache brewing behind her eyes, a throbbing harbinger that promised that the next two hours were going to be hell. Expelling another weary sigh, Ymir grudgingly rose to her feet and stretched, then headed over to relieve Cap.

 _When it comes to sleep, it’s always duty before beauty._ She remembered some female soldier saying that to her once, long before Year Zero, long before she'd started training as a soldier, but it wasn’t a sentiment Ymir had been able to fully appreciate until after the destruction of Maria. Thinking back on it now, Ymir decided that she definitely preferred her ignorance.

She was still ruminating on that faded memory when she arrived at the campfire.

The empty campfire.

Ymir stopped, frowning. It wasn’t like Cap not to be there. They always changed shifts at the fire if they weren’t staying at a bunker, and Cap was never late. It was strange, and more than mildly worrisome.

Maybe the vampires _had_ decided to come back after all.

Just as she was starting to feel a bubbling rise of panic, she heard a familiar “ _Oi_.”

Ymir swiveled at the sound of his voice, instantly relieved. “Cap?”

He paused a few feet from her. “I tried to catch you before you came,” he said. “I’ll cover your shift tonight.”

Her frown returned. “You already take two shifts. Why take mine?”

“Because I don’t want you taking a shift by yourself when you can barely stand up straight.”

“But Fangs—”

“—and Clio haven’t come back yet. Meaning that this shift will be a solo one.”

That hadn’t occurred to her, but she didn’t really buy it. “Fangs will be back. She’s not the type to shirk her duty.”

Levi didn’t deny that, she noticed, but he also didn’t entertain her argument. “All the same, I’ll be taking your watch. You’re relieved.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, and even though Ymir was at a loss, she shrugged. If Cap wanted to take her shift, fine. She was dog fucking tired and a few extra hours of shuteye (if she was actually able to sleep this time) might do her a world of good.

She gave Cap a parting salute, murmured a half-hearted “goodnight, then” and headed away from the fire.

 

**

Mikasa arrived back at camp five minutes later than she'd anticipated, and she hurried over to the campfire on silent feet, an apology already forming on her lips.

But it caught in her throat when she saw that the person waiting for her wasn’t Ymir, but Levi.

They stood there in silence for a protracted moment, gazes locked. Levi’s usually guarded expression was exceptionally impenetrable now, a mask of practiced blankness that Mikasa couldn’t begin to see through.

And she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. They hadn’t spoken since before the arrival of the vampires, but she’d felt the weight of his eyes on her throughout her entire exchange with Annie, and she’d felt the weight of his questions trailing after her even when she’d gone off with Clio, questions she didn’t want to answer.

Their walk had been a quiet one. Clio hadn’t asked her anything at all, seeming to sense that silence was what she needed, and he’d been right. She’d had time to clear her head, to come to terms with the decision she’d made.

But she had no idea what Levi’s reaction would be, and now here he was, standing before her, silent and observant, waiting.

Mikasa broke their eye contact first. “Is Ymir still asleep?” She asked, staring down at the fire.

“I’m covering her watch.”

Mikasa nodded. Of course he was.

She felt him take a step towards her. “Mikasa…”

She stiffened, her limbs tensing so much she feared they might snap. “Please don’t ask,” she said, just loudly enough so he could hear. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do.”

Mikasa looked up at him, saying nothing.

“You could have walked away today, or told the truth and let them attack us. You could have had your freedom or your revenge, two things I know you want. Instead you lied and saved us.” He took another step towards her, stopping little more than an arm’s length away. “Why did you do it, Mikasa?” He asked, pinning her with his unreadable gaze.

She swallowed. “Why do you think I did it?” She answered, deflecting his question with one of her own.

Something stirred in the cold steel of his eyes. His brows drew together. “Because you care about our group. You care about them enough to jeopardize your own freedom to save them.” He paused. “Am I right?” He asked softly.

There was no use denying it. “Yes.”

Levi shook his head. “You thought you were alone all this time…the last of your species. I know what loneliness is – it’s been my unshakable companion for years – but I cannot fathom what that kind of isolation must have felt like. And now you find out you were wrong all this time, that there are others out there, and you…” He trailed off, incredulous. “Fuck, Mikasa, why didn’t you go with them? Why did you stay?”

Mikasa kept her chin high even though she was crumbling inside. “You already answered that question, Levi. You know why.”

The look he gave her suggested that he did know why—and not just the part she’d admitted to. It was like he knew everything.

He was quiet for a long time after that, and Mikasa got the sense that he was deliberating about something. His lips were turned down and his brow was furrowed, and she could almost feel the contention warring within him.

Finally, after some interminable number of minutes, he spoke, his voice barely carrying above the muted crackle of the fire. “Do you remember when we were under the mountain and you said that there were still people I could rely on?”

Surprise flickered through her. “Yes,” she admitted, surprised that _he_ remembered that. It felt like a lifetime ago.

His eyes flickered to hers. “You were including yourself on that list, weren’t you?”

The directness of the question made her squirm, but Mikasa answered truthfully. “Yes,” she said. “And I meant it, even then.” _Even before I felt the way I do now._

Levi cocked his head, carefully appraising her reaction. “Do you feel the same?”

Mikasa blanched. “You’re asking if I…if I trust you?”

“Yes.”

She wanted to say no, wanted to lie and protect herself from giving away such an intimate truth, but she couldn’t. Even if it weren’t for his penetrating, watchful gaze, Mikasa had a feeling that he’d know she was lying, that whatever bond was connecting them would let him see the truth regardless of what she said. So she mustered her courage and answered honestly.

“Yes, Levi, I do. In spite of what we are.”

His expression twisted then, and something flashed across his face – something that looked very akin to pain – but then it was gone and his mask was back in place.

“Hold out your hand, Mikasa,” he said quietly.

She did, hesitantly, confused by his request.

Slowly, Levi reached down and unclipped the double-bladed boomerang secured at his hip. It was a beautiful weapon, and deadly sharp, but Mikasa had only ever seen him use it as a last resort. She had always assumed that his reticence to use it was due to the fact that it held some sentimental value to him, that he viewed it as more of a keepsake than a weapon.

Mikasa wondered, not for the first time, if it had belonged to Jocelyn.

But that train of thought slipped away like smoke as soon as she saw the small pouch notched almost perfectly in its center.

Her throat went dry as dust as she watched Levi untie the familiar leather strings and remove the tiny bundle from its resting place.

_No. It can’t be._

Mikasa watched, frozen in place, as Levi gingerly placed the small pouch in her outstretched hand.

He let go of the strings.

Mikasa stared at her hand, shocked beyond words.

She was holding her heart.

Levi had given her heart back to her.

Tears welled in her eyes and her chin trembled, but she somehow managed to overcome the swell of her emotions. She looked at Levi through bleary eyes. “I don’t understand,” she breathed, and it was true. She didn't understand. The entire moment was surreal. The way he was looking at her, the fact that he'd returned the one thing binding her to the group...everything.

“I was wrong about you, Mikasa,” Levi said, his voice low and husky. “And that was never mine to take.” He paused, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “What I’m saying is that you’re—you're free to go.”

It was like he was speaking a language she couldn't quite comprehend. “But we…" Her throat worked. "We have a deal…an agreement.”

“We did. I’m ending it.” His stoic demeanor faltered. “You can’t come with us to Rose, Mikasa. You’d be killed on sight. I knew it from the second I blackmailed you into making that pact with us. I just didn’t care. But now…” He exhaled, and there was a weary kind of admittance in it that made Mikasa ache inside. “I don’t want that. And I can’t uphold my end of the deal.” There was a twinge of vulnerability in his eyes as he looked at her. “I don’t know what this—” he gestured between them “—this thing is between us, but I do know it’s opened my eyes. I don’t hate you, Mikasa, and I don’t want to fight you. Not today, not ever.”

His feelings mirrored hers. _Nor do I,_ Mikasa thought sadly. She wasn't even sure that she _could_ fight him—not even if she had to.

It was ironic; she had only just gotten her heart back and already she felt like it was breaking. “What _do_ you want, Levi?” She asked softly, her voice heavy with the gravity of the moment.

He looked away. “I want you to go,” he said.

The words were meant to be cold, but Mikasa had grown accustomed to the subtle nuances of Levi’s voice and she recognized his tone for what it was: brittle.

“You don’t mean it,” she argued gently.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before looking away again. “It doesn't matter whether I mean it or not.” He sighed and turned to face her, his expression one of resignation. “You still need to go.”

Mikasa shook her head. “I promised to help you get to Rose,” she said. “Let me honor my promise.”

“No.” Levi’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll be all right. We’re more than halfway there already. You’ve done more than enough.” He reached out, and for a second Mikasa thought he was reaching for her, but then he seemed to change his mind. He dropped his hand back down to his side and clenched his fingers into a tight fist. “Go, Mikasa," he said. "You should be with your people.”

 _But I already am,_ she almost cried aloud. _I already am._

The freedom Levi was giving her, the freedom she’d wanted since the day she’d met him, felt like nothing more than rejection.

And it hurt. Deeply.

But the pain made Mikasa realize something vital: even if her feelings had changed, their situation never would. She was a vampire, he was a Reaper, and she would never be accepted. Not by Levi, and not by any human. After all, what was it Levi had said? _I don’t hate you._ Not some declaration of caring, not some allusion to friendship or something more meaningful, just _I don’t hate you._

And Mikasa needed more than that. And even if, in some of her more halcyon dreams, she imagined she could find it here, among these humans and this Reaper who had somehow gotten under her skin, she now realized that she never would.

Her epiphany stung, but it also gave her the push she needed.

Slowly, Mikasa lifted the leather pouch from her hand and tied the worn strings around her neck. She double-knotted it and then tucked the tiny pouch inside her shirt, where she could feel the slight weight of it against her chest.

Only then did she meet Levi’s eyes. “So this is it, then,” she said. "We just...go our separate ways."

If that statement stirred anything within Levi at all, he certainly didn’t let it show. His expression remained blank and his voice stayed even. “Yes, we do,” was all he said.

Mikasa took a deep breath and steadied herself, surprised by how difficult it was to get the next two words past her lips, by how badly she wished she didn't have to speak them at all. But speak them she did.

“Goodbye, Levi.”

There were a great many things she could have added, a great many things she _wanted_ to add, but in the end she uttered no more than those two, final words.

Levi’s eyes seemed to burn into her in the aftermath of her farewell, but Mikasa wasn’t sure if it was a sign of repressed emotion or a reflection of the flames still flickering in the campfire. She supposed it didn’t really matter.

“Goodbye, Mikasa,” he said at length, echoing her brevity.

Mikasa turned away, but before she’d taken a single step, she bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder, looking at Levi one final time.

“For what it’s worth,” she murmured, divulging one last, small truth, “I was wrong about you, too.”

She hoped that he knew what she meant, but she didn’t linger to find out. She turned and walked away, leaving the fire, the humans, and the Reaper behind her.

 

**

Levi watched her go, his gaze following her long after she disappeared into the darkness of the forest. The fire died down in his neglect, and soon he was left standing in the dark with nothing for company save stillness, silence, and the weight of his thoughts.

With a weariness born of more than just physical exhaustion, Levi sat down on the log nearest the ashes of the campfire and took out his boomerang once more, running his fingers over the place Mikasa’s heart had rested for the countless past weeks.

Unbidden, an old memory of Jocelyn came to mind—the day she’d given him the boomerang. Her smile had been warm and knowing as she’d placed it in his hands, and Levi remembered how dramatically she’d rolled her eyes at his lackluster reaction.

_I know this isn’t your weapon of choice, Levi, but trust me when I say my intentions are golden, okay?_

_Tch. Care to explain?_

_It’s just that…well, I know how you are. You always expect the worst. But sometimes you just have to trust that if you let something go, it’ll come back to you. Goodbyes aren’t always forever._

Clutching the boomerang more tightly in his hands, Levi gazed up at the moon, which was no more than a pale, gleaming sliver in the dark sky, its curved shape not so unlike the curved blades of his boomerang.

Jocelyn had been so fervent, so full of belief, and she’d been so, so wrong. Goodbyes – spoken or unspoken – were permanent. If nothing else, Levi’s entire life was proof of that.

His mother. Kenny. Farlan. Isabel. Gunther. Eld. Auruo. Petra.

Jocelyn.

All gone. All never coming back. The list of people he’d lost in his life was always growing, and it never got any shorter.

Goodbyes were _always_ forever.

With hollow acceptance and much more emotion than he would have expected, Levi silently added Mikasa’s name to his list.

 

**

A light fog had settled in the pre-dawn haze, washing the trees of the forest in a grey, cloud-like mist. Soon the sun would rise, the fog would dissipate, and they would be continuing their journey, but for at least the next few moments, quiet and stillness reigned.

It was easily Annie’s favorite part of the day. Early mornings were the perfect time for personal meditation and solitary practice. Usually she chose to engage in some form of disciplined exercise, but today she was too distracted by the events of the previous afternoon to focus on honing her muscles the way she normally would. Disappointment and dissatisfaction were swirling in her mind, alongside intrigue and curiosity. To find a group of humans and not attack them went against every instinct she had, but to find a vampire traveling among those humans…? _That_ went against reason, tradition, sanity… _everything_.

The raven-haired vampire was an enigma to Annie. She’d been alone for five years after the destruction of her clan, and then she’d formed an alliance with a group of humans. Those two facts alone made her narrative a unique one. Annie was known for her resilience—a trait she prided herself on, and until now she hadn’t met anyone who could measure up. But Mikasa did. Even though she was of Clan Ayume, a people that Clan Moravec had never been on good terms with, Annie had been genuinely disappointed when Mikasa had decided against leaving with them. Past alignments meant little in the face of their need to band together, and a vampire like Mikasa would have made a strong ally.

Unfortunately, Mikasa had made the wrong decision and would soon face the consequences. The humans had been heading west, and Annie knew what was waiting for them between their current position and the next human stronghold. In fact, _that_ was one of the reasons she'd agreed to letting the humans continue on peacefully: she knew that they wouldn't get far.

Annie wouldn't get to spill their blood herself, but their blood would be spilled all the same, and that was enough to assuage her hunger for their demise.

_They will happen upon the titan army, and the titans will decimate them. The humans will die at the hands of the beasts they created._

It was a delicious thought.

All at once, the peace of the moment was shattered and Annie stiffened, the hair on her neck rising in warning. She didn’t hear anything, but she felt something, almost like a shift in the weight of the shadows. And then she caught a gentle scent in the air.

She stilled. “Mikasa?”

The striking vampire emerged from the fog in front of Annie like a wraith. “Hello, Annie,” she said.

Annie was not usually given to stating the obvious like Reiner was, but now she did, her surprise getting the better of her. “So you changed your mind.”

Mikasa hesitated briefly before nodding. “I did.”

“I’m glad,” Annie said, and she was. “A vampire does not belong among humans. I must admit that I was baffled by your strange show of loyalty yesterday.” She cocked her head. “Why _did_ you choose them, at first?”

Mikasa’s black eyes were radiating an emotion Annie was not familiar with. “Because I know them,” she answered. “I’ve traveled with them and fought alongside them. You see them as humans, as enemies, but my view of them is different. They’ve been my companions, and some of them…” She trailed off, one hand idly rising to finger the thin leather straps tied around her neck. “Some of them have been more than that.” Her black eyes met Annie’s. “I don’t expect you to understand, but if you can accept that controversial part of my history, I would very much like to join you.”

Annie said nothing right away, choosing instead to read the moment. Mikasa’s sentiment towards those humans defied everything Annie understood, but the vampire seemed genuine enough. She might be strange, but she also radiated poise and confidence; the girl was a fighter, a survivor, and they needed more people like that in their numbers.

But then there was her scent. It was a strange one, different from any other creature Annie had encountered. Each clan had its own signature, so to speak, subtle notes that set one apart from another. But Annie knew Clan Ayume’s signature, and Mikasa’s scent wasn’t pure Clan Ayume. There was something else there, lingering like a faint aftertaste the tongue couldn’t quite place, and it perturbed Annie. She didn’t like not knowing. She liked being in control, liked being able to fully measure someone out, and she was usually very good at it. But Mikasa remained…elusive.

Still, Annie sensed that having this vampire as an ally would be well worth the mysteries that came with her. Besides, if Mikasa traveled with them, Annie would have plenty of opportunities to unravel those mysteries in time.

Having reached her decision, Annie stretched out her forearm, palm up, in the universal gesture of goodwill.

Mikasa stepped forward and clasped Annie’s wrist, as was custom, while Annie did the same to her. _Wrist to wrist, vein to vein_. It was the code, a symbol of trust.

Annie didn’t often smile, so she nodded in what she felt was a friendly way. “Welcome, sister,” she said.

Mikasa adopted her stoicism and followed suit. “Thank you, sister,” she responded.

They dropped wrists.

“Come,” Annie instructed, leading the way. “I'll introduce you to the others.”

Mikasa fell into step beside her. “How many are traveling with you?”

Annie could hear the curiosity in her voice, and she felt a smile brewing in spite of herself. _More than you’re thinking, I’m sure of that._ “At present, there are about fifty of us, but we will be meeting up with a larger group once we cross the northern border. From what I’ve been told, there are over two hundred already gathering there. General Crow will be able to give you a more exact number.”

“General Crow?”

“He is our leader.”

“Oh.” There was a flicker of surprise in Mikasa’s tone. “I assumed that you were in charge.”

Annie did smile at that. “Me?” She shook her head. “No. I am in charge of Clan Moravec’s warriors, but not of anyone else.” She glanced over at Mikasa. “Were you trained before the destruction of your clan?”

“Yes, but not as a warrior. My father was Guardian of Clan Ayume.”

Annie nearly stumbled at that revelation, but she recovered quickly, hiding her reaction. Judging from Mikasa’s tone, the girl obviously didn’t realize how monumental that was, but Annie did. Few Guardians had survived the initial skirmishes of Year Zero, but the ones who had beaten the odds had acquired almost regal status. Protecting the Guardian bloodlines had become one of the imperative missions of many clans, and now Annie had found the Guardian apparent of an all but lost clan.

 _And a beautiful one at that,_ she noted silently as she appraised the raven-haired vampire walking at her side.

General Crow was going to be immensely pleased, in more ways than one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few parts I'm not entirely satisfied with, but I didn't want to delay an update any longer. (Hopefully you guys won't be able to tell which parts I'm talking about!) XD
> 
> Also, I've gotten a lot of questions/ messages about Eren, so I thought I'd take a minute to discuss him. Rest assured, Eren **is** in this story. His role is a minor one, but he does have a part to play. (All in good time.)
> 
> As always, thanks for the continued support of this story. You guys rock!!! :)


	13. Far and Away

_Come to me, last love of mine_  
_Come to me,_  
_As the seas of the world run dry_  
_Leaving a story of scars along their empty ocean floors_  
_And beds of seaweed that can sway no more in their currents_  
_As the fish and birds and animals disappear one by one._  
_Come to me, last love of mine_  
_Come to me,_  
_As the dying begins, as the dying ends_  
_As the whole world sighs its final breath and goes dark_  
_As the stars go out and the air grows cold_  
_And all things exhale in final expiration._  
_Come to me, last love of mine_  
_Come to me._  
  
_Come to me_  
_…Before I too am gone  
_

\- Final stanzas of 'The Dying', a poem transcribed from the oral tradition of Clan Ayume

**

 

The night was anything but quiet. A chorus of laughter and boisterous conversations filled the air, mixed together with the mellifluous sounds of voices raised in song and the vibrato-rich timbre, somewhere farther off, of a lone violin.

From her perch on the wooded ridge, Mikasa could see and hear it all, and while she took comfort in the sounds, she was content to be a silent observer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t share her companions’ excitement. She did. The group had had its first titan encounter since Mikasa had joined them four days earlier, and the Moravec warriors had decimated them. Not a single vampire had perished, and everyone was basking in the residual highs of victory. They were set to cross the border into the northern territories two days hence, they’d had a successful hunt, and the storm that had darkened the sky had passed them over, the foreboding clouds moving south.

Mikasa hoped it wasn’t headed for Levi and the others, but she had no way of knowing.

“I take it you’re not one for festivities?”

Mikasa turned, surprised to realize that she was no longer alone. An old vampire had joined her on the ridge, a man she vaguely recognized. He was tall and impossibly thin, his clothes hanging on his bony frame, and his face was lined with wrinkles. And yet despite his age and his gauntness he was handsome, his features sharp and intelligent, his bearing proud and dignified.

He came to stand beside her, offering her a sympathetic smile. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “In my younger years I appreciated nights like this, but now I favor rest.” He inclined his head. “I know you’ve seen a great many new faces the past few days, so in case you’ve forgotten this old one, I’m Solomon.”

Mikasa returned his smile with a bit of effort. “Mikasa.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I know who you are, child. Everyone in our party knows who you are. It’s not often we come across sisters or brothers with such a…unique backstory.” He gave her a knowing glance. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re hiding out up here. You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys being the center of attention.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ever since Annie had escorted her to the camp, Mikasa had felt like something of a celebrity. Everyone wanted to meet her and hear her story. She hadn’t minded answering questions at first, but after a few days of it, she was feeling drained.

Still, their curiosity was understandable, and leaving during the midst of a celebration had probably been viewed as a slight. Mikasa felt a blush rising to her cheeks. “I apologize if I seem ungracious,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed meeting and talking with everyone. I just needed some time to…process everything.”

“No need to apologize,” Solomon said. “I understand. Everything must still be so new to you.”

Mikasa nodded. “It is.” It was somewhat embarrassing to admit that, after being alone for so long and then being in the company of humans, she’d forgotten what it was like to be with her own people.

“Well, if you have any questions, please ask. I’ve been traveling with this group for nearly two years and I’ve spent countless years with other tribes before that. I’m not so far off from being a walking history book. Or a walking gossip column, for that matter. I’ve seen and heard it all.”

Mikasa smiled, genuinely this time. Solomon had a relaxed, good-natured demeanor that was infectious, and there was something honest about him that made Mikasa feel comfortable in his presence.

“I am curious about a few things,” she admitted.

Below them, the violin stopped playing and there was a chorus of applause. Then the player began another tune. It was slower and reflective, eschewing the earlier virtuosity in favor of a somber, minor melody.

Solomon closed his eyes for a moment, listening. Then he sighed. “My father used to sing that song to me when I was a child,” he said as he eased himself down onto the ground. “It still reminds me of home.” He rested his back against a tree and patted the ground beside him. “Have a seat, Mikasa. I’m happy to answer your questions, but my legs aren’t what they used to be.”

Mikasa joined him on the ground, folding her legs beneath her.

"Where is home?" She asked once she was settled.

Solomon's eyes clouded over. "Far, far away," he answered quietly, his age suddenly showing on the planes of his face. "Nothing more than a memory now, like so many other places."

Mikasa recognized the gravel in his voice for what it was. After all, she knew what loss was, intimately. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it.

"No need to be, child. If you live to be as old as I am, change and loss are inevitable companions." His gaze turned perceptive as he looked at her. "What pains me is when I see someone so young who understands those companions as well as I do."

The sympathy in his expression was so genuine that Mikasa had to look away to keep her emotions in check. It would be easy to yield her strength, to fall to pieces and grieve in front of someone who would understand, but she didn't want to. She wasn't sure she would be able to put herself back together again if she did. The only reason she'd survived her last breakdown was because Levi had been there to hold her together.

_Levi..._

She looked out into the distance, her fingers ghosting over the leather strings tied around her neck.

“So,” Solomon said at length, breaking their silence, “what are you curious about?”

Mikasa refocused her attention on the old vampire.

 _Everything,_ she thought. Their customs were different than she what she remembered of her time growing up in her own clan, and there were a great many things she was curious about, including some of the people. General Crow immediately came to mind—the dark-skinned, charismatic vampire leader was as intriguing as he was handsome, but Mikasa decided against asking about him. Her father had always said that the best way to judge someone's character was to discover it for yourself, not to inherit a second-hand opinion. So instead of speaking of General Crow, Mikasa settled on the one aspect that was completely foreign to her.

“I was approached yesterday by a young vampire who offered me her blood. I didn’t accept, but she seemed almost offended when I turned her away.”

“Do you remember the girl’s name?”

“Irina.”

“Ah. Irina is a donor.”

The term was not one that Mikasa was familiar with. “A donor?”

Instead of clarifying, Solomon responded with a question. “Tell me, Mikasa, are you of Clan Ayume?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, surprised. “How did you know?”

“I spent time with members of your clan a number of years ago. You look like them. Also, Clan Ayume is one of the only clans that does not use donors. I made an educated guess.”

“What are donors?”

“Vampires that dedicate their blood to their clan. They allow others to feed on them during dry times when other blood sources are scarce—it is their primary function. Now, anyway. In the old days, it was also traditional for the mightiest warriors to drain a donor before a battle to increase their strength, though that practice is extinct.”

“That’s barbaric,” Mikasa said, affronted.

“It was also purely voluntary. Donors were never forced into service, then or now. They choose that life.”

“But why?”

“Because each of us has our place, our role to play. Donors may not have the fortitude of warriors or the wisdom of Guardians, but they have selfless hearts and wish to contribute to society in the best way they can.” Solomon paused. “That’s not to say that I haven’t seen donors abused over the years, because I have, but in every instance the abuser was dealt with very severely. Most of the time, though, donors are treated with profound respect.”

Mikasa considered Irina’s wounded reaction the previous day. “So I should make amends to Irina, then,” she mused.

Solomon nodded. “Yes. Irina most likely approached you as a sign of good will and welcome. You should apologize and accept her offer. I know Irina, and she is not one to hold grudges. If you correct your mistake, she will not hold it against you.” His looked turned curious. “Besides, I imagine you must be hungry. I haven’t seen you feed since you joined us.”

“I haven’t,” Mikasa admitted. “But I also haven’t had hunger pains. I’m used to blood rationing.”

Solomon was quiet for a moment. “If you don't mind my asking, where did you get blood when you were with the humans?” He said at length.

Mikasa felt a pang of longing. She looked away. “One of the humans gave me his blood when I needed it.”

She felt Solomon shift beside her. “More than once?”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes.”

He was silent for so long that Mikasa looked back at him, her brow furrowing. “Is that something I should keep to myself?” She asked.

Solomon’s expression was strange. “That’s not the right question,” he answered cryptically, mystifying her further. His gaze turned inquisitive. “Do you know why this human let you drink from him multiple times?”

Of course she did. Levi had told her why, plainly, on more than one occasion. “He needed me to be at my strongest so I could help protect our group,” she answered, but as soon as the words left her mouth she realized that Levi hadn’t ever actually said that.

_I owe you._

_You don’t look well._

_Do you need blood?_

_Take what you need._

Every time, even when she’d refused, it had been about her. _She’d_ been the focus. Not the group. Her.

And now, suddenly, she was as curious to know the answer to Solomon’s question as the old vampire was.

_Why, Levi? Why did you let me feed from you?_

It had to have been for the group’s benefit. Nothing else made sense.

Solomon was watching her pensively. “So it wasn’t quite that simple, was it?” He asked finally, clearly aware that she was experiencing some kind of inner tumult.

Mikasa swallowed. “Maybe not.” She cleared her throat and looked down to where the rest of the group was still actively celebrating.

“Do you miss them?” Solomon asked, his voice quieter than before.

Mikasa frowned. “I shouldn’t,” she murmured, fingering idly at the leather strings tied around her neck. _I shouldn’t, but I do._

Solomon exhaled slowly and stood up. “Never let fear of someone else’s opinion dictate how you feel, Mikasa,” he said, gazing down at her. There was gentleness in his eyes, and a weariness she couldn’t quite define. “The world needs new feelings—better feelings. It needs people to come together. So if you miss the humans you were traveling with, good. I for one see that as a sign that change is possible, even in this age of hatred.”

He smiled. “I know I’m as old as the dirt you’re sitting on, but I like to think I still have my wits about me, so if you ever have questions or need help, ask.” He reached down and gently patted her shoulder. “And remember, child: it’s not a crime to be different.”

Before Mikasa could formulate a response, Solomon straightened and made his way back down the ridge, and Mikasa watched him, lost in thought.

 

**

“We lost another one.”

Clio’s words were one more knife in Levi’s gut. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Who?”

“Annette—Colleen’s younger sister.”

“She wasn’t even sick yesterday.”

The concerned frown marring Clio’s face deepened. “I know. She fell ill late last night and by this morning…” He shook his head. “If the illness continues spreading at this rate, we’re going to lose more than half our group in a matter of days. The prognosis is not good.”

 _That_ was the understatement of the fucking month. Ever since the snowstorm had hit a few days earlier, conditions had been steadily getting more hazardous. The worst of the snowdrifts along their path were almost waist deep, and between that and the biting winds, the group’s progress had slowed considerably. And then, two days earlier, sickness had broken out in their numbers and they’d been forced to stop completely, taking shelter in a series of cramped caves on the leeward side of a small mountain. It was better than being exposed to the elements, but not by much. They didn’t have proper shelter, provisions, or medicine, and no one that had taken ill was getting better. And now, counting Annette, three people had died.

Levi gazed out into the white bleakness ahead of him. Yesterday, he’d tried to navigate ahead to the nearest bunker, which was, at most, two miles away. He’d taken Ymir and Jean with him, but they’d been forced to turn back when the storm had picked up. Two stupid miles and they hadn’t made it. Two stupid fucking miles.

Levi’s frustration was at its boiling point. “Fuck it,” he spat. “I’m going to try for the bunker again. We need food and medicine.” A chill shot through him, making him shiver. "And warmer fucking clothes."

Clio sighed. “As suicidal an idea as that is, I can’t argue with you. There’s no telling when this storm will abate and we can’t risk waiting.” He cinched the belt of his heavy cloak more tightly about his waist. “I’ll go find us two empty packs.”

Levi glanced up at the hybrid. “You’re not coming. I need you here.”

“Will all due respect, Captain, I _am_ coming. You can’t take Ymir and Jean again—they’ve barely recovered from yesterday and temperatures are lower today. You need someone who will be less affected by the cold, and right now, I am your only option. I’m coming with you.”

Jones was right, Levi knew, but he was still reluctant to agree. With Mikasa gone, he and Clio were the strongest fighters left. If they both headed for the bunker, that would mean leaving the civilians alone in the care of Jean and Ymir. They were capable, but they wouldn’t be able to defend everyone if there was an attack, and neither of them would be able to lead the group safely to Rose, for the simple reason that neither of them knew the route.

“We can’t both go,” he decided. “We are the only two people who know how to get to Rose from here. If something happened to us, everyone else would be stranded.”

“Then you know what the solution is.”

Levi did know, but he still didn’t answer right away. He assessed Jones quietly, weighing the options. The hybrid was a formidable fighter—he’d proven that time and again, and he was also intelligent and resilient and knew how to handle himself on solo missions. Still, Levi didn’t trust anyone more than he trusted in his own abilities. By letting Clio go in his place, he would be effectively putting the group’s survival in the hybrid’s hands.

_There are still people you can rely on._

The words came to him in the echo of Mikasa’s voice, and as asinine as it was, it gave him a sense of reassurance.

“All right,” he relented. “You can go. If you’re not back by the time the storm abates, I’ll have the group press forward.” _If they’re able to._

Clio nodded. “I won’t come back without medicine,” he said, and then he paused. “Thank you,” he added softly, “for trusting me with this. It is a trust I will not break.”

Levi didn’t reply. He watched Jones gather supplies and head out into the white swirling snow beyond the cave, and then he trudged outside and walked the twenty feet or so to the nearest cave, where many of the civilians were holed up.

He found Jillian furthest from the cave entrance, tending to Colleen—the remaining Renault sister. Cody was standing beside her.

The ill girl was lying on a makeshift pallet of cloaks and coats, and she was coughing violently. There was a sickly sheen of fever on her brow, and her thick brown hair was damp with sweat.

Jillian mopped the moisture away from the girl’s face with a piece of fabric she was using as a rag and glanced up. “How is it looking out there?”

Levi shook his head, feeling helpless. “Not good, but Jones went out to try for the bunker. I’ll let you know when he gets back.”

Jillian nodded and turned back to her patient.

Levi began to walk away when Cody Ral ran up and tapped his arm. He stopped and turned, looking down into a pair of amber eyes that looked so much like Petra’s that it was painful.

“Ymir and Jean were looking for you,” she said quietly. “They don’t know what to do with the bodies. I think they moved them to one of the other caves for now because people were getting upset.”

There was no emotion in her voice, just a somber frankness that was unsettling to see in a six-year-old, but understandable. The rosiness of her short childhood was over, blotted out by an adult understanding of the world that had stained whatever ignorant innocence she’d once had.

It struck Levi that looking at Cody Ral now was like looking into a childhood mirror of himself.

He crouched down, feeling a painful wave of empathy for Petra's orphaned daughter. “I’ll find Ymir and Jean and sort it out,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “You stay here and keep Jillian safe, all right?”

The little girl nodded gravely. “Yes, Captain.”

Levi rose to his feet. He felt like he needed to say something else, but he wasn't sure what to add and Cody didn't seem to be waiting for some kind of parting remark, so he just nodded lamely and headed out into the snow.

It was blowing down in white, swirling sheets, limiting his visibility considerably and drenching his clothes. Levi gritted his teeth and pressed forward, keeping his head down as much as possible.

 _Only twenty paces to the next cave, shitstain,_ Kenny's voice taunted in his head. _Just muscle through it._

And he would have done just that, if it hadn't been for the titan.

It attacked so quickly that Levi didn't even have time to draw a weapon.

 

**

The battle – such that it was – was over quickly, but the fact that they’d won and that the handful of titans were lying dead in the snow did little to ease Jean’s anxiety. For starters, he’d never seen Cap look this bad after a fight before. A few unlucky others had sustained bites and scratches during the chaos of the attack, but no one had been injured as grievously as Levi. The Reaper was bleeding from multiple wounds, and the fresh claw marks running down the left side of his chin and neck were glistening brightly against his pale skin, a very visible reminder that, even though he’d eventually overcome his opponent, some titan had at least momentarily gotten the better of him.

And if Cap wasn’t faring well, that couldn’t possibly bode well for the rest of them.

For probably the fourth time in as many minutes, Jean sidled closer to where Sasha Braus was bandaging Cap.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. “Can I do anything?”

Levi glared at him. “Kirschtein, if you ask me either of those questions again I’m going to rip these bandages off and stuff them in your mouth. Please save me the hassle and shut the hell up.”

_Typical._

Well, at least he knew the wounds weren’t affecting the Reaper's sense of humor.

Jean held his hands up. “Fine, I’ll quit asking. I’m just worried, is all. This is the second time we’ve run into titans this week. Where the hell could they possibly be coming from in weather like this?”

Levi shook his head. “Fuck if I know, but as soon as this storm passes—” He cut off mid-sentence, reaching out as Sasha suddenly collapsed into him. “Oi!” He said as she fell.

Jean only noticed then how pale the girl was. “Shit, Sasha, are you okay?” He asked as Levi steadied her.

She shivered. “I’ll be—” she started to say, before she dissolved into a fit of coughs.

Levi waited until she was done before gently helping her to her feet. “I’ll go get Jillian,” he said grimly, but Sasha shook her head.

“No. I need Clio.”

“He’s not back yet.”

The look of panic in her eyes was bright. “But I…I…” she sputtered, and then her eyes rolled back and she crumpled where she stood. Levi caught her again, preventing her from falling, fresh blood seeping from the bandages on his neck because of the strain.

Jean strode forward. “Let me,” he said, reaching for the unconscious girl.

Levi started to protest but Jean took her from his arms anyway. “You’re dead on your feet, Cap. Just let me help. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

A strange, complicated expression appeared in Levi’s eyes, but he stepped back and nodded. “All right.” He sighed. “Put her down in the corner and prop her head up with one of the packs. Then go get Jillian. I know she’s tending to other people, but they’ll have to wait. We can’t lose Braus—the girl’s invaluable.”

Jean nodded and got to it. Out of respect, he pretended not to notice the way Cap collapsed back down onto the rock he’d been sitting on before, but he couldn’t stem the worry in his gut.

So many people were sick and dying, and Cap was more injured than he was letting on. The storm outside was still raging, and there were probably more titans nearby. Their situation, much like the world around them, looked pretty fucking bleak.

They may have been more than halfway done their journey, but Rose had never seemed so far away.

 

**

The wind was still howling when Sasha came to, and she could see thick swirls of snow moving past the cave entrance. She blinked in pain at the brightness and turned her head away, shivering. A second later she felt a cold compress being pressed to her forehead. She groaned.

“Sasha, can you hear me?”

She nodded weakly at the sound of Jillian’s voice.

“Good. You and I need to have a little chat.”

Sasha forced her eyes open and gazed up at the elderly woman, feeling herself shrink a little at the obvious disapproval she saw in Jillian’s expression.

“You’re with child,” Jillian stated. “Why on earth would you keep that a secret on a trip like this one?”

“I…” Sasha faltered, swallowed. “It’s not a secret. Clio knows, and so does Connie.”

“Well then shame on them too,” Jillian huffed. “They should have said something. Letting you carry on and work the way you have been is incredibly stupid. You’re only putting yourself and your unborn child in danger.” She sighed. “Of course, I suppose they’re not entirely to blame. Men are men. They don’t exactly understand pregnancy and motherhood.” She pursed her lips, intensifying her look of disapproval. “Which is why you should have come to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sasha mumbled. “I just…didn’t want to be a burden to the group, and I thought that if everyone knew…”

“Everyone is going to know soon enough, Sasha. Even the loosest clothing you have won’t be able to hide your belly in a month or two. What was your plan then?”

She hadn’t ever thought that far ahead. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

Jillian sighed, and it was the type of sigh that seemed to be reserved exclusively for frustrated old women. “Honestly, child,” she said. “You’re lucky you’ve made it this long, just like you’re lucky that this fever seems to be breaking.” She removed the cold compress from Sasha’s forehead. “But luck isn’t enough. Changes need to be made, so here’s what’s going to happen: first, I’m going to tell Captain Levi about your condition. Then, I am going to find that boyfriend of yours and give him a piece of my mind. He needs to be by your side at all times, and he’ll also need to start pulling your weight because I am removing you from the duty roster. You will also need to start doubling your rations. If you are malnourished it means your child is too, and the weaker you are, the more likely it will be that both of you will die before getting to Rose. Also, from here on out, you will be completely honest with me about this pregnancy. If that baby of yours so much as kicks, I want to know about it.”

Sasha nodded even as arguments began to form on her lips. “Connie and I aren’t really in a good place right now, so—”

“Hush. You can have all the lovers’ spats you want once you get to Rose, but while we’re out here there is no place for them. Put your disagreements behind you, grow up, and work together.” She reached behind her and fished around in her bag until she found a ration of dried jerky. “Here,” she said, handing it to Sasha. “As soon as you feel strong enough, eat this. I’m going to go find your boyfriend.”

Again, Sasha felt a burning desire to argue, but she held her tongue. Jillian might be a slight old lady, but she could certainly by intimidating when she wanted to be, so Sasha kept quiet and simply watched as Jillian gathered her things and headed out into the snow.

She didn't leave Sasha alone for long.

Not two minutes after she'd left, Jean came trudging into the cave. “Hey,” he called in greeting as he dusted the snow off of his jacket and out of his hair. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better.” Sasha propped herself up into a seated position against the wall of the cave, but a wave of exhaustion came crashing over her and she instantly regretted trying to move. “Did Jillian tell you to come here and keep an eye on me?” She asked weakly.

Jean nodded. “Yeah.” He walked over and sat down across from her. “I’ll tell you what: in some ways, that lady is just as scary as Cap. When she barks an order, you listen.”

Sasha smiled wanly. _Now there’s something I can’t argue with,_ she thought, and then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

 

**

When Sasha next woke, it was because of the heat. Her skin was damp with a layer of sticky sweat and every inch of her body felt like it was baking. She tossed and turned and groaned, and then, unable to dispel the heat, grudgingly opened her eyes.

And saw a familiar face staring down at her. “Hey,” Connie said. He was sitting next to her, looking concerned.

Sasha groaned again and struggled into a seated position, kicking off the pile of blankets and clothing weighing her down. “I think I’m partially cooked,” she said, wiping the sweat off of her forehead with a swipe of her hand.

Connie frowned. “Jillian said I should keep you warm—you were shivering after your fever broke so she said to get you covered up.”

Sasha snorted. “I don’t think she meant for you to suffocate me under fifty pounds of blankets, though.” She kicked at the remaining fabric, freeing her legs. “Seriously, where did you even _find_ this many blankets?”

The tips of Connie’s ears started to turn red. “Well,” he said, staring at his lap, “Jillian gave me two but that didn’t seem like enough, so I may have…borrowed a few more, along with a coat or two.”

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed?”

His ears were now the color of ripe tomatoes. “I’ll give them back.”

Sasha sighed. _Connie the blanket thief. Go figure._

But even though part of her wanted to roll her eyes at his ridiculousness, another part of her was touched. Here he was, once again, caring for her, sincere and helpful to the point of stupidity, and here _she_ was, silently judging him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a tinge of color creep onto her own face.

Connie blinked at her in confusion. “What for?”

“Everything.” She bit her lip. “I’ve treated you so badly and I don’t know why. You deserve a lot better.”

His lips twitched downward into a frown. “Don’t worry about it, Sasha. You don’t have to apologize.”

She leaned forward, propping herself up as tall as she could sit. “Yes, I do. You’re…you’re the best person I know, Connie, and I pushed you away.” She felt tears beginning to surface in the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. “I miss you,” she admitted. “So much. I want to be close again like we were before I messed things up. I want to talk to you about stupid stuff. I want to hear you laugh again. I just...I want to be with you.”

“You’ve got me, Sasha.” Connie reached for her hands and squeezed them gently. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. And we are okay—really.”

She searched his eyes. “But you still don’t believe that _you_ are what I want. I can tell.”

Connie looked away, but it didn’t matter; she’d already seen the hurt hiding in his eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he murmured. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. It was miles from fine.

And regardless of what he said, she did have something to prove to him. She had to prove that she loved him.

But how? _How?_ Nothing she’d said so far had made any difference. She kept telling him she wanted to be with him, that she wanted to be a real couple, but he didn’t believe her. And she had no idea how to…

And then it came to her.

“Hey,” she blurted. “Will you marry me?”

“ _Wha…_?” Connie stammered. He looked like she’d just told him that their baby was going to be born with three heads and a tail.

Utter shock was not exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. She pouted. “Well?”

Connie gaped at her. “Did you seriously just ask me to _marry_ you?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sasha crossed her arms over her chest, feeling defensive. “Why is that so damn hard to believe?”

“Well—” He started to say, but she cut him off.

“Shut up!” She screeched in frustration. “Don’t you get it? I love you! I want to be with you, and I’ve been trying to prove it to you but you just don’t get it, and I understand—I mean, I never asked for a relationship and I guess you thought that meant that what I feel for you is some casual thing, but it’s not!” She sucked in a breath. “I’ve loved you since the first time you made me snort milk all over myself in the mess hall at Maria, I love you now, and I’ll still love you when I’m old and fat and this baby in my belly is older than we are now!”

Connie’s look of bewilderment was slowly transforming into something else. “Really?” He breathed. “You feel that way about me? Not Clio?”

Sasha groaned in exasperation and chucked the nearest blanket at him, feeling a moment of satisfaction when it hit him in the face. “No, you dolt! How many times do I have to tell you? Clio is my friend! _You’re_ the one I made a baby with, the one who makes me laugh, the one I just proposed to!”

Connie’s shoulders were trembling, and for an awful second, Sasha thought he was crying, but then he moved the blanket. “You’re insane,” he said, grinning, his body still shaking with laughter. “And yes, by the way.”

“Yes what?” Sasha barked, still fuming.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Connie said, and then he closed the distance between them and kissed her gently on the lips.

Sasha’s anger went up in smoke. “Really?” She said as he pulled back.

“Yeah. Although…” He raised his eyebrows.

Sasha’s stomach clenched. “What?”

Connie smirked. “You’re gonna have to propose to me again. Properly. That means no yelling the question at me and no name-calling.”

Sasha chucked another blanket at him, but this time she couldn’t suppress her own smirk. “Not a chance. You said yes, so my job is done.”

“Figures.” Connie pushed the blanket away and looked at her, and then his humorous smile turned sentimental. “I missed you too, by the way.”

Sasha smiled, and for the first time since the fall of Maria, she felt like everything might just work out okay in the end.

 

**

The wind stirred the hair around her face, making stray black tendrils sway back and forth where they brushed her shoulders. The wind was colder here in the northern territories than even the most bitter wind she’d experienced when she was still with the Maria group, carrying enough bite to easily raise goosebumps on the skin of warm-blooded creatures. As she walked towards the center of camp, she wondered how Levi and the others would have adjusted to the colder climate. Probably not well.

There were a fair amount of tents strung up in the clearing, but it was still easy to find General Crow’s tent. It was larger than all of the others and made of a light blue fabric that stood out in bright contrast to the earth-toned tents around it. And also unlike the rest, there was a guard posted outside of the entry flap.

The man nodded as she approached. “He’s expecting you,” he said as he reached out and pulled aside one of the flaps so she could enter.

Mikasa stepped inside, her eyes instantly adjusting to the dimness of the candlelit interior.

It was surprisingly well furnished for a mobile tent. There was a grand desk in the center of the space, flanked by two large candelabras that illuminated the plethora of maps and books spread out on the desk’s surface, and a smaller table in one corner, laden with various jars and bottles of liquids. There was also a comfortably sized pallet resting on a fur rug in the other corner. Nearby it was a pile of sketches in differing states of completion, each canvas showing a different vignette of nature. Some were done in black and white but many had been enhanced with color, imbuing the sketches with a sense of realness that was breathtaking. One in particular – a rainstorm captured by deep blues and blacks – caught Mikasa’s eye. Within its swirling clouds and turbulent sky, it was like the artist had managed to capture not only the accuracy of the storm but its might as well.

“I like that one too. The beauty, the power, the darkness…it is captivating. Much like you.”

The voice, like dark silk, was one Mikasa now recognized well. She turned and inclined her head as the tall, dark-skinned vampire came to stand beside her, trying to ignore the way her stomach somersaulted at the sight of him. Crow was a proud specimen of masculinity: tall and chiseled, with a confident gait and an expressive face—one that exuded lustful slyness as readily as intelligence, and a mane of black hair braided into dozens of tiny, perfect cornrows that he kept secured in a leather knot at the nape of his neck.

“Good evening, General,” Mikasa said, tearing her eyes from him. She gestured to the sketches they’d been admiring. “Are these yours?”

He smiled, a brief tilt of his generous lips, and bowed his head in return. “Ever the polite one,” he said. “As I’ve mentioned before, you are welcome to call me Atticus.”

Mikasa gave him a small smile but didn’t acquiesce.

“And no,” he continued when she gave no reply, “they are not mine. These sketches were all done by Daria of Clan Moravec—I believe you've met her. Her artistic talent far surpasses mine.” He lifted a brow. “Do you draw, Mikasa?”

“Not well. My father gave me some rudimentary lessons before he…when I was very young, but no. Nothing like this,” she added, glancing back at Daria’s masterpieces.

Crow lifted his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “No matter,” he said, managing to look completely comfortable despite the way his voice dropped. “You are better suited to be on a canvas than sitting behind one anyway.”

Mikasa felt a blush rising to her cheeks—a somewhat common occurrence whenever she was speaking with the General, and she was suddenly hyperaware of just how near he was standing.

She stepped away in what she hoped was an imperceptible move. “What did you want to speak with me about?” She asked, trying to steer the conversation in a new direction.

Crow smiled. “You are my guest,” he replied. He walked over to the small desk in the far corner and uncorked one of the bottles. “I wanted to see how you were getting along and ask if there was anything you needed.” He poured a generous helping of a light brown liquid Mikasa couldn’t identify into a glass and held it out to her. “Would you like a drink? It’s honeyed mead—not too strong but satisfying nonetheless.”

Mikasa’s first instinct was to decline, but she didn’t want him to think her ungracious so she walked over and accepted the proffered glass, jerking slightly as his large fingers brushed hers in the exchange. “Thank you,” she murmured, stepping back once more and courteously taking a sip.

He smiled at her reaction but didn’t say anything, electing instead to pour himself a glass of mead as well. “So…how _are_ you adjusting here?”

Mikasa stared down at the drink in her hand before answering, swirling it gently. “Everyone is very welcoming and generous, and I appreciate the gracious hospitality you have been showing me.”

“But…?”

Mikasa glanced up, meeting his eyes. “But?” She repeated.

Crow laughed, the sound a rich, deep chuckle. “You are polite and cautious to a fault, Mikasa, but I’ve been playing this game for a very long time. I can tell when someone is holding back.” He cocked his head, assessing her intently as he raised his glass to his mouth and took a slow drink. “So what is bothering you?”

“I’m not bothered, just…somewhat confused,” she admitted. “Ever since I joined you, I’ve noticed that most of the people in your camp treat me with a certain amount of—of deference, and I don’t understand why. I am not of noble blood, nor am I one of their leaders.”

Crow chuckled again and shook his head. “Forgive me, Mikasa,” he said. “I sometimes forget that you’ve been surviving on your own for so long.” He took another drink. “When the once-hunters decimated our numbers, we lost a great many of our people. Out of the two hundred or so clans formed after the Second War, eighty were wiped out entirely, and almost all of the Guardians were killed. Less than fifty – a mere handful – survived.”

Mikasa nearly dropped her drink. “So few?” She asked, aghast.

Crow nodded solemnly. “It makes sense, when you think about it. A Guardian’s job is to protect their clan, so in the event of an attack, they are usually leading the charge. Fighting on the front lines comes with a high fatality rate.” He drained his drink and put the empty glass down on the table. “That is why you’ve noticed people treating you differently than everyone else: because you _are_ different. You are the last of an endangered species, a keeper of your clan’s history and customs, one of the only surviving vampires trained in the old ways and by far one of the youngest.” His eyes darkened. “And easily one of the most beautiful.”

“But I am not even officially a Guardian,” Mikasa answered, ignoring his last comment. “My father never passed his leadership on to me.”

“But you were trained as a Guardian, and your father would have passed on his position, had he lived until you came of age. Is that not correct?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Mikasa admitted. She took another sip of her drink.

“So,” Crow said, as if that settled it. “You are a Guardian in all but name, as well as the last surviving member of Clan Ayume. That makes you a rare and important individual, Mikasa. You don’t realize it now, but when we reach our destination and meet with the leaders of the remaining clans, your voice will carry a great deal of weight. The remaining Guardians have almost as much authority as the Generals, and because of your unique backstory, I have a feeling that you will accrue a great amount of respect from the other Guardians once you are presented at the conclave.”

Mikasa was speechless. She’d been alone for years and then in the company of humans, treated like somewhat of an outcast, and now, if Crow was right, she was going to go from that to having an influential status among clans of vampires she’d never even met. It was a lot to take in.

And the revelations didn’t end there. “You will also have many romantic prospects, I suspect,” Crow added softly.

Mikasa’s grip tightened on her glass. “Romantic prospects?” She echoed warily.

Crow stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “That can’t come as a shock, not to someone so beautiful.” Before she could say a word, he dipped his head down, running his nose along her neck. “Or someone who smells so intriguing,” he breathed against her skin.

Mikasa jolted in shock at the sudden shiver that ran down her spine and the glass fell from hand.

Crow caught it before it could hit the ground and straightened up, dark eyes gleaming in obvious pleasure at her reaction. “Careful,” he whispered with a smile as he set the half-full glass down on the table.

Mikasa swallowed. “You flatter me, but I am certain you are exaggerating." She paused to collect herself, but then she noticed that Crow looked like he wanted to argue to the contrary. "Nevertheless," she hurried on before he could interject, "I do not think I will be accepting romantic offers anytime soon. I wouldn’t want personal attachments to cloud my judgment, especially not when everything and everyone will be so new to me. I will need a clear head.” Which is exactly what she was wishing for now, but the combination of alcohol and Atticus Crow was making her head feel anything but clear.

“Spoken like a Guardian,” Crow said, mirth audible in his voice. “And also like someone who has not felt the touch of another in a long time.” He stepped in close again and cupped her chin, gently brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Share my tent tonight, Mikasa,” he said, his blazing eyes full of dark promises. “Let me remind you what you are missing.”

It wasn’t until he said it that Mikasa realized just how much she wanted to feel the touch of another, how much she ached for it. Loneliness had been her lover for too long, a cold and empty presence. It was beyond tempting to exchange that for the real, solid presence of the vampire in front of her.

Almost unconsciously, she reached out and spread her palm over his chest. He hummed at the contact, a sound that went straight from his throat to her nerve endings, and he covered her hand with one of his larger ones, brushing his thumb in small circles on her skin.

But Mikasa barely noticed his ministrations. What she noticed instead was the silence.

There was no heartbeat beneath her palm, no warmth. It wasn't surprising; Crow was a vampire just as she was, so of course he would have no heartbeat. And yet for some reason, that realization _did_ affect her. It made her feel a different kind of ache, one that instantly cooled her desire for the imposing man.

She pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I can’t stay.”

Crow covered the look of surprise on his face with commendable swiftness. After a second, he smiled. “A loss for both of us,” he said quietly, but he shrugged, letting her rejection roll off his shoulders. “But perhaps you’ll change your mind on a luckier night,” he said. His eyes swept over her. “For now, I’ll say goodnight.” He reached out and captured her hand in his, bringing it up until it hovered just out of contact with his lips. “Rest well, Mikasa.”

“Goodnight, General,” Mikasa said as he released her hand.

“Atticus,” he reminded.

She supposed she could at least give him that. “Atticus,” she corrected, and then she slipped out of his tent and into the windy night.

 

**

She didn’t stop walking until she was in the woods surrounding their camp, and she only stopped then because of the blood. The scent was heavy and fresh, and Mikasa turned towards it out of habit, her fangs descending involuntarily.

She followed the scent trail for less than a quarter mile when she found its source.

The feasting vampire was bent over the wolf’s carcass, and Mikasa could hear the telltale sounds of feeding. She began to back away, not wanting to interrupt, but the vampire suddenly sat up and turned towards her, offering a bloody smile.

“Hello, Mikasa,” Daria said as she wiped a hand across her mouth and stood up. There was blood on her shirt but the willowy vampire didn’t seem to mind. “I didn’t expect to see you sneaking about.”

"I'm not sneaking about. I'm just walking."

"Well, _I'm_ sneaking about," Daria said with a smirk. "I love nighttime kills...they give me such a rush." She retracted her fangs as the veins beneath her eyes slowly lightened from black to grey. “I am surprised to see you. I thought you would be with General Crow tonight.”

Mikasa colored for the second time that night. “You knew about our meeting?”

Daria tossed her impressive head of hair over her shoulder and raised a coquettish eyebrow. “I know he’s wanted you for a lover since your first day traveling with us,” she said, voice full of mischief. “Though it looks like he didn’t get his way. There is no way he’d finish with you quite so quickly. The man does know how to take his time.” Her black eyes twinkled wickedly.

“Yes, I declined his offer,” Mikasa admitted, staring at the ground.

Daria sighed. “Oh well. Atticus Crow is a great many things but he is not what you are looking for.”

It was a statement, not a question, and the absolute certainty in Daria’s voice made Mikasa pause. She looked up. “Why would you say that?” She questioned.

Daria stepped closer to her. “Because you have feelings for another,” she murmured.

Mikasa blanched. “You are mistaken.”

An unsettling amount of slyness crept into Daria's smile. “It’s no use lying to me, Mikasa; I see things as they are. I know your heart belongs to another the same way I know you can see without eyes.”

“How could you…?” Mikasa began, but then she put the pieces together. Her eyes widened. “You’re a seer?” She guessed. She had never met someone with the sight before. She wasn’t even entirely sure she had believed that it was a real gift—until now.

“I am," Daria confirmed. "The sight runs in my family just as your own ability runs in yours. It’s in the blood and blood never lies.” Daria pursed her lips, thinking. “You know that old saying? It’s something like: loyalty and love may be proven false…”

“But blood always runs red,” Mikasa finished. “Yes, I’ve heard it.”

“Well, it’s true.” Daria smiled again, showing the bloodstains still visible on her teeth. “So even if I didn’t have the sight, your blood would still reveal your true feelings.”

The more confidence Daria exuded, the less comfortable Mikasa felt, and yet she had to ask. She had to know. “And what does my blood reveal?”

“I can glean a great deal from scent alone, but to be certain…” Daria held out a dainty hand.

Mikasa placed her own hand, palm-up, in Daria’s outstretched one. “Go ahead,” she said, granting permission.

Faster than a striking snake, Daria slashed a talon across Mikasa’s wrist, just deeply enough to draw a bead of blood. Then she raised Mikasa’s wounded wrist to her mouth and lapped the dot of red up with her tongue, swishing it around pensively in her mouth before swallowing it.

She was silent for a moment, and then she licked her lips clean and smiled. “Exactly as I thought, you naughty fox,” she trilled. “You taste like exquisite controversy.”

Mikasa drew her arm back. “Excuse me?”

But Daria seemed to be too absorbed in her own thoughts to hear anything else. “No wonder you've only fed once since you joined us," she said, musing aloud. "Ordinary blood doesn’t sate your hunger. Of course, I would be the same way if I had my own personal blood bag to feed from. Then again...maybe not. I do love variety. Unlike you, apparently.” Suddenly, she caught Mikasa’s eye, snapping back to the present. “You better keep that to yourself, dear,” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning in until her lips brushed Mikasa’s ear. “There wouldn’t be much acceptance if people found out you were in love with one of _them_.”

“One of ‘them’?”

Daria lowered her voice even more. “ _A human_.”

Mikasa jerked away as if burned, but Daria only laughed. “Don’t worry, Mikasa. It doesn’t bother me. _My_ feelings are rather progressive; I’m just telling you that not everyone here would feel the same way. So be careful.” Her voice took on a serious, contemplative tone. “The safest secrets are the ones not shared," she said. "Keep your aura of mystery and be careful who you trust."

There was an edge to Daria's voice that made it difficult to decipher whether she was offering advice or making a threat, but then the moment passed and her expression softened once more. She gestured to her kill. “Please take the rest," she said. "There's plenty. I was more interested in the kill than the meal and you should eat something. A little variety will help mask that secret of yours.”

She didn't wait for a response, just wiggled her fingers in a dainty parting wave and walked away, leaving Mikasa alone with the dead wolf and her inner turmoil.

And the ghost of a question she'd pondered the night she'd left the humans.

_Levi..._

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She was Mikasa of Clan Ayume, daughter of a Guardian and soon to be a Guardian herself, a _vampire_. She was not in love with a human—especially not a Reaper that was responsible for butchering so many of her own people. No. She wasn’t. What she felt now was just a loss of companionship, a loss of a strange friendship formed through weeks of trials and survival. Nothing more. Yes, she trusted him. Yes, she thought about him more than she would like to admit. Yes, she missed him. But love? No. It couldn’t be. It would _never_ be. What she felt for him - that deep, complicated, confusing, unnameable thing - couldn’t be love. It wasn't. That depth of feeling could never and would never exist between them. It was an impossibility.

 _Just like the blood bond doesn't exist?_ A small voice inside questioned. _Just like that?_

And suddenly Mikasa realized that she wasn't sure of anything at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments last chapter - I apologize that I did not respond to each of them individually (I HAVE NO FREE TIME IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW), but I really appreciate every word. I hope you all enjoyed this update. 
> 
> See you next time! :)


	14. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I didn't plan to have a holiday update, but having a little time off from work gave me a little time to catch up on writing, so here you go. Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for supporting me and this story! You guys are awesome :)

_14 April, in the field: Woke up with a pounding headache and a strange pain in my stomach. Also feeling on edge and I am ravenous. Tried to eat earlier but food is a total turn-off. The docs told me to mention any side effects that linger longer than forty-eight hours, but these only cropped up yesterday. Will monitor behavior and stop by the clinic when my expedition gets back two days from now if things get worse. Probably nothing to worry about._

\- Final diary excerpt of Cole Fraser, one of the initial recipients of the Titan Vaccine

**

 

By the time Levi made it back to the caves, the sun had already dipped below the mountain line and the moon was visible in the sky. He deposited the foodstuffs he’d scavenged from the bunker, gestured at Ymir and Jean to handle their distribution, and walked back outside.

When he was far enough away not to be heard, he leaned back against one of the rock walls and let out a keen of pain, clutching at his side. He hadn’t told anyone, but he was certain that two of his ribs had been broken in the titan attack the prior week. His side hurt every time he moved (hell—it hurt every time he took a fucking breath), but there was nothing for it. He would just have to muscle through it and hope the pain subsided with time.

His other wounds were healing more readily, though Levi had a feeling that the claw marks running along his chin and neck were going to scar. It pissed him off—not because he cared about the physical marks but because it would be lasting proof that a titan had nearly killed him. If any wounds were going to scar, he would much rather have preferred that it be the two small fang marks hidden just beneath his shirt.

But those had faded and disappeared, just like the vampire who’d made them.

Like always, Levi pushed the thoughts of _her_ to the back of his mind and focused instead on the present situation.

After seven days of whiteout conditions, the snow had finally stopped three days earlier, a full day after Clio had returned with medicine from the bunker. His success had been everyone’s success, and because of the life-saving antibiotics, no one else had died. Even Colleen, who’d been a few hours at most from following her sister into an early grave, had recovered.

In addition to bringing back the medicine, Clio had also marked the trail by tagging trees with brightly-colored ribbons on his way back, making it possible for them to navigate back and forth between the caves and the bunker in spite of the snow. Where he’d gotten the ribbons and how he’d managed to accomplish stringing up the markers in the midst of a blizzard remained a mystery, but Levi was grateful anyway.

He was also grateful for the change it had caused within their group. Since Maria, many people had come to accept the hybrid, but many people had retained reservations that had affected group morale. After this, though, the remaining skeptics had come around pretty dramatically, and now Clio was treated – almost down to a person – with newfound respect and awe. It was a shift in attitude that Levi was extremely pleased with, mostly because it was so long overdue. The hybrid had proven his loyalty time and again, but for some reason, he’d been even less accepted than Mikasa.

Mikasa—the loyal, unusual, resilient vampire that - for some baffling reason - Levi couldn't seem to get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried to forget about her.

_I promised to help you get to Rose. Let me honor my promise.  
_

Levi closed his eyes and sighed, then grimaced as his ribs throbbed. Fucking titans.

“Captain?”

Levi opened his eyes, meeting the mismatched gaze of the hybrid. “What is it?”

Clio clasped his hands behind his back. “If we’re still planning to push forward tomorrow, I was going to make an announcement to the group, but I wanted to check in with you first.”

Levi pushed himself off the wall and straightened, trying not to let his pain show. “Yes, we’re leaving tomorrow,” he managed, though he couldn’t quite keep the strain from his voice. “The weather is clear and the snow isn’t nearly as deep as it was. We’d be foolish to linger here longer than we already have.” He didn’t add the reason why it would be foolish because he didn’t have to; the threat of titans was an all too constant presence in their lives. Sheltering anywhere that didn’t have walls and doors posed a monumental risk.

“All right.” Clio’s eyes dropped to Levi’s side, as if he knew what Levi was hiding. Which he probably did, judging by his follow-up question. “Do you want me to take point tomorrow? You could hang back, act as a sweeper.”

Levi scowled, but he didn’t shoot the idea down. Frankly, he was glad Clio had suggested it. He’d only gone to the bunker today to test his strength, and while he’d managed to bring back fresh supplies for the group, the short trip had left him exhausted.

“Fine,” he conceded. He gave Clio a pointed look. “I’m not as bad as you think, Jones,” he lied, “so quit with the concern. It’s written all over your face.”

Clio’s lips pressed into a line. “Yes, because there are no civilians around and you are every bit as bad as I think you are.” He paused. “Have you taken anything for the pain?”

“I took a dose of painkillers yesterday, but I don’t want to take any more. I’m not the only person recovering from injuries.”

“No, but you are the leader of the group. If you’re not strong, we aren’t either.”

Levi’s scowl soured. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a knack for saying exactly what no one wants to hear?”

To his surprise, Clio chuckled, lines of amusement crinkling on the human side of his face. “More than once, actually, but no one has ever disagreed with me.” He arched a brow. “Are you about to be the exception?”

Damn the hybrid and his logic. “No,” Levi admitted. He exhaled, cringed. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll help myself to a few more doses of pills, so long as you shut up about my condition. Fair enough?”

Clio nodded. “Fair enough.” He gave a brief salute. “I’ll go tell the others about our departure plan,” he said, and then he turned and walked away.

As soon as Clio was out of sight, Levi collapsed back against the solid surface of the rock wall once more, his waning energy completely enervated from his bluff of stamina during their conversation.

 _Rally, you piece of shit,_ Kenny’s voice taunted him. _Get up and fake it ‘til you make it._

Instead, Levi’s legs went out from under him and he sank down into the snow.

 

**

It was early in the morning and most people were still asleep in the bunker, so Cody decided to go outside and practice her knife throwing. She carved out a target on a tree with a wide trunk and had just managed to land her third knife in a row when she saw Willie watching her from the trees to her left. He bolted as soon as their eyes met, and after a second of deliberation, Cody ran after him.

“Hey!” She called. “Wait up!”

He didn’t, but Willie was slower than she was and she caught up to him in no time. She blocked his path, thrusting her arms out wide. “Stop,” she said. “I just want to talk to you.”

Willie flinched but did as she asked, eyeing her warily.

Cody stared back, letting her arms drop to her sides. She hadn’t spoken to Willie – or even seen him, really – since the day her mom had…since the day it had happened, and she was angry. Willie had no right to avoid her—if anything, _she_ should be the one avoiding him. After all, he hadn’t lost anything that day. His family was still alive.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” She asked bluntly.

Willie kicked at a lump of melting snow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Cody bristled. “That’s not an answer. Tell me why.”

He looked up at her. His eyes were watery and slightly discolored and his skin had a clammy sheen to it. Cody wondered if he was sick, but she pushed the thought away. Right now she didn't want to be anything other than mad at him; if he really was sick, there would be time to feel bad for him later.

She crossed her arms across her chest. “Answer me,” she said hotly.

Willie caved in the face of her anger. “I didn’t mean to avoid you,” he whined. “I just didn’t know what to do.” His bottom lip trembled. “It was so horrible, what happened to your mom, and I felt like it was my fault.” He dropped his gaze to his feet. “I kept thinking that if I’d just been fast, like you, none of that would have happened. You wouldn’t have had to save me and your mom wouldn’t have had to save you.”

Cody stared at him in shock. Did he really think that she blamed him?

“Willie,” she said, her voice much gentler than before, “what happened wasn’t your fault. A titan killed my mom. Not you.”

He sniffled. “Yeah, but I was the one who asked if you wanted to play by the river. We wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Cody felt a familiar knot of pain start to tug at the pit of her tummy, but she ignored it. “Hey.” She waited until he looked up to continue. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? It really wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

Cody’s shoulders slumped. “Because you’re supposed to be my friend, and I feel like you’re not anymore.” It was her turn to sniffle. “I’m so sad all the time, Willie,” she said, her voice breaking. “I miss my mom so much, and it would have…it just would have been nice to have a friend.”

“I…I am your friend,” Willie said, but despite his words Cody could hear the uneasiness in his voice. She blinked back her tears and looked at him, confused, but the expression on his face made all the pieces fall into place. Suddenly, she understood why he’d been avoiding her, why he couldn’t look her in the eye for longer than a second. She even understood why right this minute he was fidgeting like he was a split second away from bolting.

Willie couldn’t deal with what had happened, and she was a walking, talking reminder of it. He was staying away from her because he couldn’t cope. The fear, the attack, the tragedy...it had just been too much for him to handle.

He might say that he was still her friend, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be, not anymore.

Cody swallowed, steeling herself against how unfair it all was. “Thanks for talking with me, Willie,” she said, her voice sounding hollow to her own ears. “It means a lot.”

“Sure,” he said. He tried to give her a smile but only managed to grimace. “I’m gonna head back,” he said. “I don’t like being far from the group.”

“Okay,” Cody said. She had every intention of letting him go, but when he turned around, surprise got the better of her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed. “You’re bleeding!”

Willie glanced over his shoulder at the back of his arm, where a thin line of blood was seeping through his shirt. “Oh,” he said listlessly. “Guess I should go change my bandages.”

“What happened?”

“I got scratched by one of the titans that attacked us last week,” he explained. “Jean killed it right after.”

Cody assessed his pallid complexion again, feeling a stirring of anxiety. “Are you sure it’s not infected?”

Willie frowned. “It’s fine,” he said. “Mom said it isn’t even that deep.”

“But—”

“I’m gonna go put new bandages on,” he interrupted. “I’ll see you around, Cody.”

Cody bit her lip. Willie wasn’t the only person that had gotten hurt in the attack the previous week—even Captain Levi had gotten pretty torn up. But no one that had been wounded looked pale and sick.

No one except Willie.

It might be nothing, but Cody didn’t feel like it was nothing, and her mother had always told her to trust her instincts.

She jogged back to the tree she’d been using as target practice, retrieved her knives, and went to find Clio.

 

**

Pain. Anxiety. Exhaustion. Frustration.

Suffering.

It was all pulsing around in her bloodstream at a throbbing, relentless rate, as though the overload of emotional turmoil had spilled into her veins and arteries and was seeking to escape through her skin but couldn't find a way out.

And it wasn't even _her_ emotional turmoil; it was Levi's.

By the time they stopped to set up camp for the night, Mikasa was at her breaking point, and, not knowing what else to do, she went in search of Solomon. It had been a long, trying day, and she was desperate for someone to talk to. She needed advice and answers, and Solomon was the only person she really trusted in the group.

She found him towards the back of the camp, conversing with a group of other older vampires. They were talking and laughing, and Mikasa paused outside of their circle, not wanting to interrupt, but Solomon saw her and turned, smiling in greeting.

“Good evening, Mikasa,” he said, his smile waning as he took in the expression on her face. He lowered his voice. “Are you all right, child?”

“I’m…in need of answers,” she said, unwilling to go into detail with others so close by. “But it's not dire,” she added, not wanting to be a bother. “I can come back later.”

Solomon waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense.” He turned to the gathered vampires. “You’ll have to excuse me, friends. I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Hurry back,” one of the women said. The rest of them nodded and murmured goodbyes, a few of them smiling at Mikasa as they did.

Solomon steered them out of camp, leading them in silence for nearly half a mile before they came to the very edge of the forest. Beyond lay a flat, open, treeless valley, warmed by the light of the pale, waning sun and flanked in the distance by jagged, snow-capped mountains.

Mikasa stopped and stared in wonder, marveling at the utterly foreign vista.

It was as though they’d walked to the edge of one world and were standing at the fringe of another—one that Mikasa had never seen the likes of before. She had lived in the woods her whole life, and the sheer openness of the country before her was alien to her. The woods were beautiful in their dense greenery; this was beautiful in its barren vastness.

“What is this land?” She finally asked.

“It is the northern tundra,” Solomon replied, “and _that_ ,” he added, pointing to the mountains in the distance, “is where we are going. There is a well-protected stronghold deep in the mountain pass. The clans agreed to gather there because of its remote location and its proud history. It is one of the few places that has always been held by vampires; no human has ever set foot in those mountains.”

Mikasa was still drinking in the sight of it all. “It’s breathtaking,” she said.

Solomon nodded. “It is.” He turned towards her. “Now, tell me what it is that is bothering you. We will not be overheard here.”

Mikasa hesitated. There would be no reason to share what was troubling her if she didn’t first ascertain a basis of truth. “Actually,” she said, “before I do, there is something I need to ask you.”

Curiosity sparked in Solomon’s eyes, but he nodded. “Ask away.”

Mikasa swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous. “What do you know about blood bonds?” She asked quietly.

Solomon’s eyes widened and a look of unexpected surprise stole across his face. “Blood bonds?” He repeated. He exhaled through his teeth. “Now _that_ is something I haven’t heard anyone speak of in quite a long time.”

Mikasa forced herself to ask the follow-up question, the one that had the power to change everything. “Are they real?”

Solomon nodded slowly. “Oh yes. They are an ancient phenomena, and very, very rare, but they are real.”

Mikasa could feel her throat tightening. “Can you tell me about them? Any details you know would be helpful." She was aware that her tone was almost desperate, but she couldn't help it; she _had_ to know.

“Well... blood bonds are not an exact science. There is great variability among the ones that have been documented, so it will be difficult to answer your questions.” He must have seen the way her expression dropped, because he added, “But I will do my best. Do you see that fallen tree over there?” He pointed, and Mikasa nodded. “Let’s have a seat. This may take some time.”

Mikasa walked to the indicated spot and waited for Solomon to sit next to her on the fallen log. Once he was settled, he began.

“Blood bonds, as I said, are an extremely rare phenomena. In our entire history, less than one hundred have been recorded, and only a handful more have been passed down via word of mouth. The reasons for their formation, as well as the nature of their formations, differ from instance to instance, but there are three abiding similarities." He held up a hand, then punctuated each statement by raising a finger. "One: blood bonds are always initiated by drinking the blood of another. Two: they always occur between two individuals. And three: once formed, they last forever.”

_Forever._

That one word alone was enough to make Mikasa’s head spin, but she held her tongue and retained her composure, not wanting to interrupt Solomon.

“Blood bonds are an extraordinary occurrence, and they only ever manifest between two individuals who have an extraordinary connection. In almost every case, the connection that leads to a blood bond is love—and I don’t mean love in just the romantic sense of the word. That is usually part of it, but it is also strength of character, shared values, sameness of spirit. Some people use the term soul mates to describe it, and I am inclined to agree. The connection between two blood-bonded vampires transcends the physical. There is simply no other way to put it.”

Solomon paused. “Questions so far?”

Mikasa had plenty of questions, but she shook her head. Better to hear it all first.

“Very well. Now, having never experienced a blood bond firsthand, I can only pass along what I’ve heard and read of the connection itself, so keep that in mind as I relate this to you. From what I know, it seems that two individuals, once blood-bonded, develop a kind of…almost psychic connection. They are able to communicate without words and across vast distances, and they share their emotional experiences. If one of them is in pain, so is the other. If one is joyous, the other is too. Blood bonds strengthen over time, and so do the individuals’ shared emotions. It’s even been recorded that in some extreme cases, when one member of the blood-bonded pair has died, the other has died too. That is the intensity of the connection.”

Solomon lapsed into silence, and Mikasa struggled to put her racing thoughts into coherent questions. Eventually, though, she came to one that eclipsed all of the others.

“Do blood bonds always occur between two vampires?” She asked, her voice sounding infinitely small to her own ears.

Solomon gazed at her intently, as if searching for the question behind the question. “Almost always,” he answered at length.

Mikasa pushed the issue. “ _Almost_ always?” She echoed.

“Well, blood bonds usually require blood to be exchanged between _both_ individuals, but there is one famous exception that I know of.” Solomon cocked his head. “Do you know the story of the Wanderer?” He asked.

Mikasa’s brow furrowed. “I thought the Wanderer was a human legend, not a vampire one.”

“The Wanderer is a person, not a legend, and the story is not only a human one. It is a shared history between our two races, though one that not many people alive today know.”

“But you do know it?”

Solomon nodded. “I do, because my clan – Clan Kovač – was directly involved in the story.” He took a deep breath. “Many years ago, shortly after the First War, there was a human girl named Anna Ross who left her people and went out into the wilderness. Some say she was running away from an abusive husband, others think she was a scientist tasked with collecting foreign data, and still others believe she was simply an explorer setting out into the unknown. Whatever the real reason, Anna left her home and eventually trekked high into the mountains, where she came across a vampire that had been badly injured. His name was Alexei, and he was of Clan Kovač.” Solomon shifted slightly on the tree. “You see, even though the war was over, there was a great amount of resentment still festering between many of the clans, and attacks and raids were not uncommon. Alexei had been attacked and left for dead by vampires of a different clan, and he was bleeding out when Anna happened upon him. Instead of leaving him there, she took a risk and helped him, tending to his wounds and nursing him back to health. While Alexei was recovering, he and Anna shared their stories and grew close, and despite their obvious differences, they fell in love. Though not known for certain, their time together in the mountains was most likely when their blood bond was formed. Alexei would have needed blood in order to recover, and Anna was easily the most accessible source." He shrugged. "In my opinion, the timeline fits."

“In any case, when he was fully healed, Alexei took Anna back to his clan and presented her as his mate. As you can guess, this news was not well received among his people. The Guardian in charge at the time ordered Alexei to dispose of Anna, but Alexei refused and was banished for his disobedience. For years, he and Anna lived a nomadic life, traveling the wilderness and avoiding other clans, during which time Anna kept a running journal—a journal that I believe the humans still have a copy of to this day.

“After seven years of exile, the Guardian of Clan Kovač relented – probably because Alexei’s mother never stopped begging for her son’s sentence to be rescinded – and he allowed Alexei and Anna to return.

“This is when their blood bond became known, and I believe it was the reason that Anna, at least to a certain extent, was accepted by the clan. Those who spoke in her favor claimed that any human who could forge such a bond with one of their own was an exceptional individual and should be treated differently from ordinary humans. Others disagreed, but Alexei and Anna stayed and made a home for themselves there.

“Trouble came after their daughter Keira was born. Before her birth, it wasn’t even known that a vampire and a human could produce offspring, and the child – living proof that a mix of their two species was indeed possible – scared and appalled most of the clan, even those who had previously supported Alexei and Anna.

“Fearing for the life of their child, the couple decided that Anna should take Keira back to human civilization. They agreed that their daughter would be safer there, and so, despite their desire to remain together, Alexei and Anna parted ways. Anna went back to her home, taking her child and her journals with her, and found asylum with her sister. I don’t know the sister’s name, but she helped raise Keira in secret and worked to hide the child’s obvious uniqueness from the rest of the humans.

“In this, the sisters were successful, because Keira grew up and led a relatively normal life—she even married a human – Caspar Jones, I believe – and raised a family of her own, though whether her husband or any of his family ever knew the truth of Keira’s parentage remains a mystery.”

Mikasa nearly doubled over in shock. “Jones?” She repeated.

Solomon had been staring out at the tundra as he recounted the tale, but the sharpness of her tone drew his attention and he looked over at her, raising a brow. “The name means something to you?”

Mikasa nodded. “One of the humans I was traveling with is a Jones. His full name is Clio Jones.”

Solomon’s expression turned thoughtful. “And you suspect that he might be a descendant of Keira and Caspar?”

“He has to be,” Mikasa reasoned. “Clio was one of the hunters injected with the Titan vaccine,” she explained, “but it didn’t affect him like it did the rest of the hunters. I know this because of the way the other humans treated him: they were scared because he was different, because he didn’t become a titan. He became a true hybrid between human and vampire. His own people call him the Mutt.”

“Hmm...” Solomon mused, lips pursed pensively, “I suppose it is possible. Blood is strong and roots run deep. If your Clio shares even distant relations to one of our kind, it stands to reason that the vaccine would affect him differently than any ordinary human.” He turned his questioning gaze on her. “Do you think he is aware of his ancestry?”

“No, I don’t think he is,” Mikasa said sadly. She wished she could tell him, but Clio was far away, with Levi and the others, out of sight and out of reach. Strangely, she missed him almost as much as she missed Levi; Clio had become a sort of reliable, reassuring presence in her life...similar, in a way, to how she now viewed Solomon.

Realizing that she was getting lost in her own thoughts, Mikasa forced herself back to the present. “Whatever happened with Anna and Alexei?” She asked.

Solomon smiled sadly. “I’m afraid their story doesn’t have a very happy ending,” he said. “Once Keira was grown, Anna left to find Alexei, no doubt relying on their blood bond to guide her way. Around the same time, Alexei left Clan Kovač in search of Anna. But alas, the two were never to meet again. Alexei was killed by members of his own clan once they discovered his purpose, and Anna’s body was discovered nearly a month later, half-buried in a snowdrift on the northern ridge of one of the high mountains, not far from where Alexei was murdered. It’s likely that an avalanche killed her, but no one will ever know for sure.”

Mikasa felt a wave of emotion roll over her at the tragedy of it all. “That’s so sad,” she murmured.

“It is, though one good thing did come of it. After the rest of Clan Kovač found out about what had happened, they mourned the loss of Alexei, and some even mourned Anna. While in life, the pair had been viewed as a taboo couple, in death, they were viewed as tragic lovers, and many came to regard their deaths as senseless and avoidable. The people responsible for Alexei’s murder were banished, and ever since then, Clan Kovač has had a much more lenient view of humans than any of the other clans.”

“Too little too late."

“For Anna and Alexei, yes. But perhaps not too late for the next couple like them.” Solomon straightened up and gave her a penetrating look. “Now that you’ve heard it all, tell me, Mikasa: why are you so curious about blood bonds and the possibility of their existence between vampires and humans?”

Mikasa gazed at Solomon levelly. She could no longer delay speaking the truth, and she no longer wanted to. The nature of the bond she shared with Levi was no longer just a suspicion in her mind; now she was certain of it.

She raised her chin slightly, in a small, subconscious gesture of defiance. “Because I formed a blood bond with a human," she answered.

To her surprise, Solomon smiled. “Yes,” he said, a touch of ruefulness in his voice, “I suspect you are correct.”

“You already knew?”

“I had my suspicions,” he admitted. “When you spoke of the human who gave you his blood multiple times and I saw the look in your eyes when you talked about him…yes, I suspected it then.” His expression took on an air of concern. “But what happened today for you to seek me out with this?”

Mikasa bit her lip. “What you said about blood bonds…about being able to…to sense the other person, to feel their emotions? Well, I have been. I’ve been feeling Levi’s pain all day, and it’s different than any time I’ve felt his pain before. This time it’s lasted, and I’m…I’m worried about him.”

“Do you love him?”

“I think…I think I might,” she admitted. “Even though I shouldn’t.”

“You cannot help who you love, Mikasa,” Solomon said gently.

“I know, but you don’t understand. Levi isn’t just a human,” she continued, feeling a familiar pinch of inner turmoil. “He’s a Reaper.”

For the first time since she’d met him, genuine shock registered on Solomon’s face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Oh my.”

Mikasa couldn’t discern the inflection of the older vampire’s response, but her own guilt bubbled to the surface. “I know,” she rushed on, ashamed. “It’s terrible. He’s killed so many of us, led so many raids… My feelings are a disgrace to my clan’s memory.”

“Mikasa,” Solomon interjected, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You’ve misinterpreted my reaction—that’s not at all what I was getting at. I _am_ stunned, but not for the reasons you’ve assumed.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with kindness as he gave her a small smile. “It’s not your feelings that shock me at all, child. It’s your human’s feelings.”

Mikasa was at a loss. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Think about it, Mikasa: this Levi of yours is a Reaper, one of the most elite vampire killers in existence. His sole purpose, prior to the rise of titans, was to hunt down and butcher our kind.”

Mikasa hung her head in shame. “I know.”

“No, child, you don’t,” Solomon rebuffed. “What I’m getting at is that, in spite of everything – his upbringing, his training, his mission – in spite of it all, this Reaper gave you a place in his group, offered his blood to you when you needed it, and, I suspect, he is at least partly the reason you are here now.”

Mikasa swallowed. “He is,” she admitted. “Although it is hard to believe. When we met, Levi bested me in a fight and took my heart—and then he used it to blackmail me into helping his group. Our deal was that he would return my heart once the group reached Fortress Rose. I hated him so much,” she recalled, thinking back to those first, bitter weeks she'd spent with the humans. The memory of the hatred was still fresh in her mind, and yet, strangely, she couldn’t remember what it felt like to hate Levi or any of the humans. Too much had happened since then. Too much had changed.

“But the hatred didn't last," Mikasa went on. "Things changed. We traveled together and fought together and I…I started to see him differently.” Her lips twitched up sadly. “I think we started to see each other differently. And then when Annie and the others showed up, Levi...Levi gave me my heart back. Just like that.” In what had now become a reflex, Mikasa’s fingers went to the leather straps around her neck. She began to fidget with them idly, in an effort to distract herself from the pain of remembering that final goodbye. “It's still hard to believe," she murmured, "but that's what happened. Levi returned my heart and told me that I should be with people. He let me go.”

Solomon had let her speak uninterrupted until then, but now he broke his silence. “And why do you think he did that?” He pressed gently, his voice soft.

“I don’t know.”

“You do. Why would he want you to be with your people? Why would he care whether or not you were with your own kind?”

“Because he…” Mikasa froze. _Because he loves me?_

Solomon had guided her to those words, and they popped into her head immediately, but Mikasa kicked them away.

No. It wasn’t true. Levi didn’t love her. All he’d said was that he didn’t hate her, and that wasn’t the same thing. It wasn’t even close.

She stared at the ground. “You’re wrong,” she murmured, refusing to meet the older vampire’s eyes.

Solomon sighed, the exhale sounding almost sympathetic. “You’re so young, Mikasa, and I know that you’ve endured more than your fair share of pain. Your fear of being rejected and experiencing any more pain must be great. But believe me when I tell you that I have lived long enough to recognize love when I see it. Even if you didn’t share a blood bond with this human, the very nature of your relationship with each other is extraordinary anyway. If I had to guess, I’d say that your Reaper is struggling with the truth of his feelings as much as you are with yours. But that doesn’t change the fact that both of you have those feelings. He may never have said the words to you, may never even have admitted them to himself, but the sheer fact that you are here speaks louder than any words ever could.”

Mikasa felt the press of tears in her eyes, but unlike the first time she’d conversed with Solomon, this time she didn’t stop them from falling below her lashes. She looked up at the white-haired vampire as they slipped down her cheeks. “Even if you’re right,” she said through her tears, “it doesn’t matter. There is no future for us. There never was and there never will be.”

Solomon regarded her calmly. “That’s not necessarily true,” he said. “Even Anna and Alexei, as tragic as their story was, had a few happy years together before the end. The future is what you choose it to be, and you, my dear, have a decision to make. You can stay here and try to move on, or you can go back.” He gathered her smooth hands in his wizened ones. “I’m not going to lie to you, Mikasa. You would be much safer if you stayed. As General Crow has no doubt told you, as a Guardian apparent, you will have a special status among the vampires gathered together for the conclave. You will have influence, protection, and, I am sure, friends and admirers.” He paused, squeezing her hands gently. “And I must confess that part of me hopes you choose to stay. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I care about you. Seeing you safe and happy would bring me much joy. But it is not my decision to make.” His expression twisted into one of concern. “You mentioned that the humans you were traveling with are headed to Fortress Rose—which is west of where we were when you joined us?” He asked.

Mikasa nodded.

“Then I suspect I know the reason why your blood bond is acting up,” he said gravely. “It's trying to warn you of danger. You see, there is a titan army standing between your humans and their fortress, and your group is headed straight for it.”

Mikasa lurched to her feet. “What?” She exclaimed, panicking. “How many days away was the army from where we were?"

Solomon stood with her. “It’s impossible to say, Mikasa. I don’t know the pace your group is traveling at, or what their exact route is. All I can tell you is that it is very unlikely that such a small company will survive if they cross paths with the titan army camped in that area.”

The horror of that realization nearly made Mikasa double over, her whole body seizing up at the thought that Levi and Clio and all the rest of them could end up like her people.

Slaughtered. Butchered. Massacred.

_Dead._

She looked up at Solomon. “I have to go,” she said, her voice shaking with urgency. “I have to get to them before they reach that army.”

“We are a long way from your humans, Mikasa—miles and days. You may not make it in time.”

“I have to try.”

“And what about the conclave? What about your place here?”

Mikasa was aware of the opportunities slipping through her fingers, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now. “I still have to go,” she answered firmly. “I have to try and save them.”

To her surprise, Solomon nodded. “Just as any Guardian would,” he murmured so softly that Mikasa wasn’t sure whether or not the words were meant for her. “Then go you must,” he said at a more audible level.

Mikasa wavered as something occurred to her. “Should I speak to General Crow first? I don’t want to cause any bad blood between us.”

“I would urge you not to. You are an honored guest and a Guardian apparent, and while you are technically free to come and go just like anyone else in our party, I have a feeling that the General would find a way to…to dissuade you from leaving,” he reasoned, the euphemism all too clear. “I will speak to Crow on your behalf…once you are a safe distance away.”

A wave of gratitude rolled through her. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re more than welcome, child,” Solomon assured her. He stretched out his forearm and Mikasa placed hers atop his. _Wrist to wrist, vein to vein._

“Be safe,” he said.

“I’ll do my best.”

Solomon smiled gently. “I have no doubt of that,” he replied with fervor in his voice. “I hope we meet again someday.”

“So do I,” Mikasa said, meaning it. “Thank you for everything.”

Solomon nodded and released her forearm. “I wish you speed and luck, Mikasa of Clan Ayume,” he said in farewell.

Mikasa said her own goodbyes and watched as the old vampire turned and headed back to camp. Then, when she was alone with nothing but the gentle wind for company, she closed her eyes and opened her mind, letting all of the feelings she’d been resisting wash over her, welcoming them with open arms.

The pain hit her first, making her gasp out loud at the force of it, but then she absorbed it and pressed on, searching beyond it, for something – anything – that she could latch on to.

And then she found it. It wasn’t as strong as the emotional connection, but the thread of Levi’s presence was a faint pull in her awareness, a tug that was just strong enough to guide her in the right direction.

Mikasa took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

 _I’m coming,_ she vowed silently, the thought grounding her, and then, on silent feet, she began to run.

 

**

Of all of the situations they could have possibly encountered on their hellish exodus from the ruins of Maria, this was one that Levi was not at all prepared to deal with.

In his time as a soldier and Reaper, he had been called many things: hero, warrior, monster, savior, murderer—the list went on and on, but never, not once, had he been forced to play the role of executioner.

Until now.

“Please…” Vivian Brandt begged for what had to be the hundredth time, tears streaming down her face as her chin wobbled with emotion. “Don’t do this.” She was on her knees, her arms wrapped around her sickly seven-year-old son as she stared up at Levi with bleary, panicked eyes. “Please,” she begged again. “Give us more time.”

Levi said nothing, just continued clutching the handle of his machete so tightly that his fingers started to go numb. Ymir and Jean were flanking him, waiting for orders that he couldn’t bring himself to give, while Vivian Brandt and her husband Richard were staring at him in horror, protectively shielding their son. Not that it mattered. If Levi decided to go through with killing the boy, the elder Brandts wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Will Brandt looked like a walking corpse and his eyes were already changing, but he hadn’t turned yet. He was still, for the moment, a defenseless seven-year-old human boy.

Levi thought of the little girl in the caves, the one-legged cannibal that he’d killed in Mikasa’s stead. Slitting her throat had been nearly impossible, had nearly torn him apart, but he’d been able to do it because he’d truly believed – at least on some level – that it was the merciful thing to do.

Killing Will Brandt would not be kind or merciful. It would be murder. And yet what fucking choice did he have? What fucking choice had the Brandts left him?

 _You chose not to give your son the preventative vaccine,_ he wanted to scream at them. _You knew what this fuckhole of a world was like, knew what the dangers were, and you still chose this. This is on you, you worthless pieces of shit. Your son is going to die or become a monster, and it’s all thanks to you._

And yet the blood would still be on his hands.

“Captain.”

Levi turned at the sound of Jillian’s voice, flinching when he saw the look of fear in her eyes—a look directed squarely at him.

“There is another way,” she said, stepping between Levi and the infected boy. She lowered her voice. “The boy hasn’t turned yet, even though he was scratched over a week ago. That means that for some reason, the change is occurring much more slowly than it usually does. So perhaps—perhaps instead of acting now, we can…wait. Maybe we’ll make it to Rose before he turns completely.”

Vivian Brandt latched on to Jillian’s words, her voice shaking with tremulous hope. “Yes!” She interjected. “Will is still Will—if we just wait, the doctors can help him when we get to Rose. No one needs to die. Please, don’t hurt my son.”

Jillian nodded, her wrinkled face still fixed on Levi. “She’s right, Captain. I know you’re worried about the group’s safety, but Will is still human. Killing him is not the right thing to do, especially when there is a chance we can save him.”

She was dead wrong, and Levi knew it. Even at the slower rate of transformation, Will Brandt had a week left at most. There was no way in hell he would survive as a human all the way to Rose; they were still a good month or two from reaching the fortress. Waiting and hoping for the best was nothing more than wishful thinking.

And yet Levi still couldn’t do it. He was tired of killing, tired of making impossible decisions and coping with the fallout, tired of people looking at him the way Jillian and the Brandts were looking at him right now.

He sheathed his machete. “Fine,” he yielded. “The boy stays alive for now. But if he turns before Rose, he dies.”

Vivian Brandt broke down into shuddering sobs at his words, and her husband nodded grimly.

Jillian stepped back. “Thank you, Captain. You’re doing the right thing.”

 _No, I’m not,_ he thought, but he ignored it. Maybe, by some miracle and against all odds, Will Brandt would manage to stay human until they reached Rose.

 _Yeah, and I’ll shit enough gold to live like a king,_ Kenny’s voice piped up from his subconscious.

Levi clenched his jaw and turned to Kirschtein and Ymir. “Keep an eye on the boy at all times. If you notice any visible changes, come find me. Understood?”

Jean nodded. “Understood, Cap.”

Ymir’s brow furrowed. “If something happens, should we…?”

Levi thought of the look of horror on Mikasa’s face when she had resigned herself to killing the girl under the mountain.

“No,” he said, “not if you can avoid it.” The idea of Jean or Ymir having to wrangle with the guilt of killing a child for the rest of their lives made his stomach turn. At least _he_ was already damaged goods. “Just come find me,” he said. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

 

**

Daria awoke in a cold sweat, her slender limbs shaking badly. There was blood dripping from her nose, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand as she cast off her pallet’s thin blanket and stood.

Visions always brought blood, but this time she didn’t care; she was too troubled by what she’d seen to spare any concern over the state of her stained clothing. Still shaking, she ran her clean hand through her hair and stepped out of her tent, breathing in the cold night air.

She wasn't alone. Annie must have completed her rounds or heard Daria cry out and come running, because the blonde vampire was standing just outside of the tent, eyeing Daria with curiosity. She raised a pale brow. “What did you see?” She asked.

Daria shook her head. “Bad omens.”

“Anything clear?”

It had been all too clear this time—much more so than her usual visions. Behind her eyes, Daria could still see Mikasa on the ground, writhing in pain as she bled from her eyes and nose, could still see the light leave her face as the bleeds took her.

Still, she didn’t feel like sharing that with her blonde clan mate. Annie had been less than pleased by Mikasa’s unannounced departure the day before, and she would no doubt relish the news that Mikasa was doomed to suffer the bleeds.

“No,” she lied. “Nothing clear. Just blood and death.”

Annie nodded, apparently satisfied. “Do you want me to get you something to wash up with?” She asked.

It was only then that Daria realized her nose was still bleeding. She could feel the stickiness of the blood on her lips and chin, could feel the tickle where some of the drops were running down her throat. “Yes, thank you.”

Annie momentarily left her there and Daria bowed her head, watching as the blood began to fall from her chin to the ground below, her mind drawn back to the horror of her vision.

She felt a wave of sympathy for the doomed vampire. Most visions could be interpreted in various ways, but not this one. When a vampire’s heart was pierced and they endured the bleeds, there was only ever one painful, agonizing outcome.

Daria closed her eyes, once more seeing the dark-haired vampire's blood and pain.

The timeline was uncertain, but the eventuality was not: Mikasa was going to die.

She opened her eyes and sighed, staring up at the stars, uncaring of the trail of blood that once more started to run down her chin and neck. "You chose unwisely, sister," she whispered to the night. "Most unwisely."

 

**

Clio had told her to run for the bunker, and she was doing exactly that—running back to the bunker like her life depended on it, ignoring the screams of terror and pain all around her and blocking out the flashes of movement (titan? human?) she could see from the corners of her eyes.

None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting back to the bunker. She needed to get back and lock the door and—

Another scream pierced the air, and this one made Cody Ral come to a dead stop.  _Did they just say...?_ The scream that followed the first confirmed it and propelled Cody back into motion, this time away from the bunker and towards the voices. All because of the name.

She found them almost immediately.           

The teenage twins – Lyle and Lucy – were cowering against a tree, and Lyle was waving a stick at a small titan that had its back to Cody.           

But it didn’t matter. Cody knew who it was even before Lyle once more screamed his name.

“Will, get back! Leave us alone!”

“Please, Will,” Lucy sobbed, “you know us!”

Cody felt like someone had poured ice water down her spine. All of her fear at the titan attack disappeared, leaving only coldness in its wake.

“No,” she said softly, “he doesn’t know you. Not anymore.”

The thing that had once been Willie turned at the sound of her voice, baring a mouthful of pointed fangs, his black eyes riveted to her throat, and even though they hadn't really been friends anymore, Cody felt tears welling up in her eyes.

_Why did you have to get scratched, Willie? Why couldn't you just be okay?_

She swallowed. "Willie?" She called out in spite of what she'd told the siblings, clinging to the stupid hope that somehow he would recognize his nickname and remember who he was.

But the titan only growled at her. Willie, like so many of the people she knew and cared about, was gone.         

Wiping the wetness from her eyes, Cody took out two of her throwing knives and quickly scanned the area around her. Jean and Ymir had been watching Willie for the past four days, but right now they were nowhere to be seen. It wasn't surprising, though. They’d probably gotten distracted during this latest titan attack. How could they have guessed that Willie would turn right when everything got so crazy?

The timing was terrible, and it meant that Cody was the only one around to deal with the monster that had once been her friend.

Steeling herself, she flipped the knives around in her hands, holding them gingerly by the blades, and waited, shifting into position.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Titan Willie charged her after only a second, extending his claws toward her as he closed the distance between them.

_Three…two…one…_

Cody threw her knives with deadly precision. The first twirled through the air and landed in the center of Willie’s chest, and the second hit him squarely between the eyes, dropping him instantly. He fell to the ground at her feet as Cody stood there shaking.

 _I’m sorry, Willie,_ she thought numbly.

And then she was struck from behind, the blow so forceful it sent her sprawling to the ground mere inches from Willie’s body.

Startled and in pain, Cody pushed herself up to her forearms, trying to ignore the way Willie’s flat black eyes were staring lifelessly at her.

“You little bitch!” Someone hollered above her. “You killed my son!”

Cody rolled over, coming face to face with Vivian Brandt. The woman’s face was livid, crazed, and she had an axe in her hands.

Cody’s eyes widened. “Please, Mrs. Brandt, it wasn’t Willie anymore—”

“Shut up!” Vivian shrieked, brandishing the axe. Her eyes flashed. “I’m going to kill you, you little orphan bitch!”

Cody scooted backwards, her earlier terror returning with a vengeance. She was vaguely aware that Lyle and Lucy were screaming at Vivian to stop, but neither sibling was taking action. They were either too scared or too paralyzed to intervene.

Which mean that there was nothing to stop Vivian Brandt from killing her.

Cody opened her mouth and screamed.

And suddenly, in a billow of black fabric, a figure appeared between her and Willie’s vengeful mother and emitted a growl so fearsome that Cody fell silent. Shock stole what was left of her voice as soon as she realized who her savior was.

_Clio._

Cody knew that Clio was a hybrid, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him look like—like _this_. His eyes were black, grey veins bleeding down the right side of his face, and his lips were pulled back in a snarl, exposing fangs longer than those of any titan Cody had ever seen. He was anger and power and feral strength - a veritable nightmare come to life - and he had never looked less human.

“Get away from her,” he hissed at Vivian. In one swift movement, he grabbed the axe out of her hands, cast it aside, and unsheathed his katana, holding the slender blade up to the woman’s neck.

“But she…she…” Vivian gurgled.

Clio’s black eyes flashed with murderous promise. “One more step or word and I will kill you where you stand.”

That quieted the hysterical woman. Indecision warred in her eyes for a moment, but then she held her hands up in a gesture of surrender and stepped back, shooting Cody one final hateful glare as she retreated.

Clio waited until she was a few paces away and then he turned around, holding out his free hand to Cody.

Cody grasped it and began to pull herself to her feet, but then she saw a flash of silver in her periphery. “Clio!” She screamed.

What happened next transpired so quickly that Cody didn’t even really see it—her mind just filled in the blanks.           

Vivian Brandt must have had another weapon on her person because she lunged at Clio with a spare dagger in her hand, adrenaline and rage fueling her movements. She was fast, but Clio was much quicker. He let go of Cody, turned, and sliced, taking off Vivian’s arm just below the elbow. Then he twirled once, using the momentum to bring the katana around in a sweeping arc. It was fluid and lightning fast, and in the next moment the katana was dripping blood and Vivian Brandt’s head was rolling on the ground a few inches from her dead son, her mouth opened wide in a scream she hadn't even had time to voice.          

Cody blinked in shock, trying to process what had just happened.

Clio dropped his bloody blade and stood there for a moment, shaking with rage, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Without being told, Cody instinctively knew that he was trying to keep his inner monster from taking over. She swallowed and, her own hand still shaking, she reached out and tugged on the hybrid’s hand. “Come back, Clio,” she tried to say. "It's over now." But her voice didn’t seem to be working properly and all that came out was a jumble of incoherent syllables.

But Clio turned anyway and looked down at her. His chest was still heaving, but, as Cody watched, the blackness began to recede from his eyes and his fangs began to retract. Soon, he looked like his mismatched self again.

He frowned, the rage in his hazel eye giving way to concern. “Are you all right?”           

Cody's eyes darted over to Willie and his mother. Titan or not,  _she_ was responsible for that. Those were her knives sticking out of Willie. She'd thrown them. She'd killed him.

She shook her head, her chin beginning to tremble.          

Clio crouched down in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Cody. None of this should have happened and you—you shouldn't have had to see me like that. I know you must be scared.”

As soon as he said it, Cody couldn’t hold it in anymore. She began to cry.

Clio seemed to break as soon as she did. “Please don’t cry,” he said. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Cody didn’t understand why he was saying that, but she didn’t care. She just stumbled forward and collapsed into him, throwing her arms around his neck, her tears pouring out like a flood.

Clio stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed and began to gently stroke her hair. Carefully, he scooped her up in his arms and stood. “Come here, you two,” he beckoned to Lyle and Lucy, and Cody could feel the rumble of his voice when he spoke from where she was pressed against his chest. “I’m going to take Cody back to the bunker and then I want you two to stay with her until this is all over. Understood?”

Cody didn’t hear them answer, but they must have, because a second later Clio was moving, his strides long and sure.

There were still intermittent screams piercing the air in the distance and the clash of skin and steel, signs that the battle was far from over, but Cody had nothing left in her. Still shaking with sobs, she burrowed deeper into the safety of Clio’s chest and closed her eyes.

 

**

Long after everyone else was asleep, Levi kept watch by the fire, waiting for any sign of Clio just as he had the previous two nights. He was exhausted and battered in more ways than one, but he couldn’t sleep. After the week they’d had, vigilance was non-negotiable.

They’d endured three titan attacks in only twice as many days, and Levi feared that the group wouldn’t be able to endure a fourth.

All three Brandts were dead: Will had turned, Clio had been forced to kill Vivian, and Richard had been torn to pieces by a titan in the last of the attacks. The ugliness of their deaths had nearly flatlined morale in the group, and then when Colleen – who had just barely recovered from her illness – had been slain, the scant remnants of everyone's hope had drained away.

Wounded, weary, and despairing, they’d holed up in the nearest bunker and Levi had sent Clio to scout ahead because he sensed – he damn well _knew_ – that the worst was yet to come.

Sending Clio off once again in such a dire time had done little to put Levi’s mind at ease, but it had been unavoidable. He was almost certain that there was a titan base camp somewhere nearby—there was simply no other logical explanation for the quick succession of attacks they'd endured at the hands of three different raiding parties. And if his suspicions were correct, finding out exactly where the base camp was located was imperative. Happening upon it by accident when they were unprepared would be a disaster.

Reconnaissance had been the wisest move, but Clio had been gone longer than he should have been, and now Levi was beginning to fear that something had happened to the seemingly invincible hybrid.

So instead of trying in vain to sleep, Levi kept watch for the third night in a row, hoping that, by some miracle, Clio would return and bring good news.

He waited and waited until finally, close to dawn, the first of those two things happened.

Clio returned.

He appeared, as always, like a wraith: swiftly and silently, emerging from the trees like a grim specter, but it was very clear from the expression on his face that the news he'd brought with him was far from good.

Levi skipped the pleasantries and braced himself. “What did you find?”

Clio’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “Exactly what you expected me to find,” he answered. “A titan base camp. It’s a hundred strong, and that’s not even the worst part.”

Of course it wasn’t. “Tell me.”

“The real problem is the location of the camp,” Clio continued, stress evident in his voice. His proud shoulders slumped forward. “It’s directly in our path, and because of the mountains, I couldn’t find a way around it, meaning that—”

“We’re trapped,” Levi finished bleakly. “We can’t go back and we can’t go forward.”

Clio grimaced. “Precisely.” For the first time since Levi had met him, a look of utter despair passed across the hybrid’s face. “Captain, I…I don’t know what we are going to do,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “These people are relying on us to get them to Rose, but after what I saw today…” He shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s possible anymore.”

Levi swallowed hard, thinking of everything that had happened since the fall of Maria: the storms, the titans, the vampires, the sickness, the deaths…so much blood, pain, and suffering. Ever since they’d started out, it had felt like the universe itself was fucking rooting against them.

_And now we’re stuck, trapped in this fucking wasteland of a country with nowhere safe to go._

Levi barked out a mirthless laugh, his breath fogging in the cold predawn air. “You know what?” He bit out caustically, all his doubts finally consuming him, “I’m not sure it was ever possible to begin with.”

 

**

The mess hall was crowded but quieter than usual, people conversing in hushed tones and glancing furtively at the guards posted in each doorway as they ate their lunches. Once, the hall would have been a din of noise come noon, but ever since the Police had begun increasing security and personnel around the fortress, the general mood of Rose’s populace had declined drastically. People were uneasy, concerned, and paranoid, and every mealtime was now a reflection of that.

Armin was sitting by himself towards the back of the hall, idly stirring his soup, his mind occupied with other things. Because of the tightened security that Governor Reiss had insisted upon at the council meeting five days hence—for ostensibly no actual reason, Armin had all but lost his freedom of movement. In the first two weeks following the day he’d administered the vaccine to the captured titan, Armin had gone and monitored the titan’s progress on a daily basis. Since Reiss’ crackdown, however, he’d only been able to slip away to the dungeon once. It had been three full days since he had seen the titan, and he was more than a little worried.

_What if its rehabilitation took a turn for the worse? What if it escaped? What if it died?_

The list of negative possibilities was endless.

Suddenly, a sharp double-rap on the edge of the table pulled Armin’s attention and he looked up, blinking in surprise at the sight of Historia standing in front of him.

She was angled away from him and her eyes were trained on the guard posted nearest to them. “Go at four o’clock,” she whispered quickly. “I’ve bought you twenty minutes. You won’t run into anyone.”

She was gone before Armin could ask for more information, and he stared after her as she strode from the mess hall, perplexed.

He had no reason to doubt Historia’s word, but he wondered what exactly she had done to ‘buy’ him twenty minutes. He hadn’t spoken with her since before the council meeting, but he knew that Dex had been in contact with her, and Dex was aware of Armin’s trouble. It wasn’t so farfetched to think that Dex had used Historia to solve the problem if he'd thought of a viable way to do so; the albino man viewed people as tools he could use whenever and however he needed to.

It frustrated Armin to think that Historia might have been one such tool, but he wasn’t foolish enough to waste the opportunity she'd somehow given him.

He finished his soup and cleared his place, then walked back to his room, making sure to walk at a pace that wouldn’t attract any attention.

The afternoon passed slowly, and Armin reviewed his notes to pass the time until four o’clock finally arrived.

Leaving the copy of his notes on his desk (the originals were in his makeshift lab), Armin turned off the lights and opened his door, peering out to look for guards.

Just as Historia had promised, there were none.

Quickly, Armin locked his door and hurried down the hallway. At each corner he searched for guards, half convinced that his luck wouldn’t hold, but it did. The halls and stairwells were empty and silent, and before he knew it, he was at the locked door that led down to the old subbasement that had become his temporary lab.

Retrieving the ring of keys from his pocket, Armin unbolted the door and stepped inside, shivering as a wave of cold, dank air hit him.

And then he heard a voice drifting up from the stairs leading to the subbasement.

Armin froze in shock, his entire body stiffening.

He couldn’t make out what the voice was saying, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that someone had gotten into the lab. Someone was down there, now.

Which meant that they knew about the titan and the unsanctioned experimentation Armin was conducting.

 _I could be turned out for this,_ he thought in a panic, and it wasn’t an irrational fear. Even if they'd only been down there for a minute, whoever was in the lab would certainly have enough damning evidence to get him convicted at a trial.

Armin knew what Dex would do. _Silenced people are the best secret keepers,_ he’d said in one of their early meetings, and Armin had heard enough stories about Dex’s exploits to know that the albino man had put those words into action on more than one occasion.

But he wasn’t Dex. No matter what the situation, he'd never been a killer and he had no plans of becoming one now. Somehow, he would think of another way to solve whatever problem was waiting for him.

Swallowing against his rising fear, Armin made his way down the steps as silently as he could, trying to formulate a plan. Maybe he could talk the intruder down, show them the benefits of the work he was doing, try to make them understand…

Armin blinked, coming to a shocked standstill at the bottom of the stairs.

There was no one in the lab.

He was utterly and completely alone.

Except that the voice was still speaking, rattling off words and numbers, as clear as could be.

And the voice was coming from…

Armin nearly lost his balance as the realization hit him.

The voice was coming from the titan. The titan, which was sitting with its back pressed against the bars of its cell, was _speaking_.

Armin swallowed, his throat suddenly as dry as a desert. The question  _it worked? it worked?_ pulsed in his brain as he slowly, cautiously, walked towards the cell.

“He—hello?” He stammered, his heart pounding.

The voice stopped, silence reigning.

And then the titan turned and looked at him. It blinked once, twice, its mostly human eyes full of fear and uncertainty, its face haggard and drawn. “Hello?” It repeated in a quiet voice—and it was indeed the same voice that Armin had heard before.

Armin was so bowled over by the titan’s transformation that he could barely get his mouth to form simple syllables. “I…” He stopped. “You can hear me—you can understand me?” He finally managed.

The titan nodded slowly and then wrapped its hands around the bars and pulled itself up to its feet, its mottled black and green eyes never leaving Armin’s face.

“That’s…that’s good,” Armin said, still reeling at the difference a few days had made. The titan’s claws and fangs had started receding over a week ago, as had the blackness of its eyes, but it had still been animalistic the last time Armin had been in the lab, had still seemed unresponsive and had still exhibited behaviors much more beast-like than human. But now, it— _he_ , rather, was not a titan at all. Not anymore.

Armin swallowed again. “I’m Armin,” he stated. “I’m a doctor here. I’ve been treating you for the past few weeks. Do you remember anything about that? Or anything from before?”

The man's face contorted at the question and he started to shake, his limbs trembling.

Armin held up his hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that right now. Let’s start with something easier.”

That seemed to relax the former titan slightly, and Armin offered him an encouraging smile. “Do you remember your name?” He asked.

The man remained still for a moment, and then he nodded and opened his mouth. “Eren,” he said quietly. “My name is Eren Jaeger.”

 

 


	15. A Million to One

_Sometimes, sacrifice is the only way forward._

\- Old Reaper maxim

**

 

Before the fall of Maria, Jean would often wake up in a good mood, ready to tackle whatever the day threw at him. Since they’d set out, however, he’d had fewer and fewer mornings like that. But even now, he would still sometimes wake up feeling like it was going to be a good day, that despite the dangers and attacks and the constant scarcity of supplies, despite the pain and exhaustion, the group would rally enough to last a few more hours until they made camp and started the cycle all over again.

Today was not one of those days. Jean knew, from the moment Ymir shook him awake, that something was wrong—well, _more_ wrong than the shitfest of wrong they usually experienced. The shift in morale had been bad enough after the Brandts and Colleen had been killed, but today it was downright funereal. Cap and Clio had been silent and somber all day, and while that wasn’t entirely unusual for Cap, it was for Clio. And in addition to that, the group hadn’t pressed forward at all. Cap had given some vague reason as to why they were lingering at their current outpost for another day, but Jean could tell it was just an excuse—and not even a good one. The civilians had started to whisper and grumble, their paranoia increasing as the daylight dwindled, and then, just when Jean didn’t think his own anxiety levels could creep any higher, Cap had called for the meeting during first watch.

Something was _definitely_ wrong.

“Hey Mule,” Ymir said, gently bumping his shoulder with hers as she fell into step beside him.

“Hey.” He glanced over at her. “What do you think Cap called the meeting for?”

Ymir shrugged, her lips pulling down in a frown. “Nothing good, judging by how weird he and Jones have been acting all day long.”

Jean was glad that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. “Right?” He agreed. “They’re acting like…like…”

“Like they’re trying to find the best way to tell us that we’re going to die,” Ymir finished.

Normally, Jean would have chalked that answer up to Ymir’s insufferable habit of responding sarcastically, but something in her tone made him think that she wasn’t joking. His stomach turned. “You really think it’s that bad?”

Ymir met his gaze, and there was no hope in her brown eyes. “Yeah, I do,” she replied softly.

They walked in silence after that until they got to the campfire. It wasn’t far from the bunker, but all of the civilians were inside for the night, safely out of earshot.

Cap and Clio were already there, conversing in low tones, but they stopped as soon as Jean and Ymir drew up beside them.

Ymir crossed her arms. “What’s going on?” She asked, wasting no time.

Cap looked from her to Jean, his expression unreadable. “We have a problem.”

Jean shrugged. “We’ve had problems before—”

“Not like this one,” Cap said, cutting him off. “Clio found a titan base camp while he was out scouting. It’s a hundred strong and it’s directly in our path.”

Jean's jaw fell open. _A hundred titans?_ They'd never faced even half that many at once before. "Shit," he cursed, not knowing what else to say.

“Can’t we just avoid the camp—you know, go around it or something?” Ymir asked, her brow furrowing.

Levi shook his head. “No. The titans picked their location strategically; the camp is positioned on the only accessible road that passes through this mountain range. Their camp is our only way through.”

Jean jumped on Ymir's earlier train of thought. “We could find another path,” he suggested. “Or make a new one. Maybe over one of the peaks?”

Again, Levi shook his head. “No, we can’t. The mountains in this area would be perilous to traverse even with proper gear, and without gear they'd be impossible to climb. The peaks are too steep, the inclines too severe.”

“So what are our options?”

“We don’t have any,” Levi admitted. “At least, we don’t have any viable ones. Either we try and fight our way through the titan camp, or we go weeks out of our way and circumvent the mountain range. The probability of failure is high no matter which we choose.”

“Well, option one seems like a suicide mission to me,” Ymir said. “There are only sixteen of us left, and that’s including civilians like Jillian who won’t be much use in a fight. So if we’re putting it to a vote, I vote option two.”

"So do I," Jean agreed. An extra few weeks of travel time wasn't great, but it would certainly beat getting massacred.

“I admit it sounds better on the surface,” Cap said, “but as soon as Jones and I talked it through the problems became obvious. For example: the outposts and bunkers we’ve been relying on for shelter and fuel do not run north or south along this mountain range. If we circumvent the mountains, we’ll be traveling hundreds of miles without food or shelter from the elements. We haven’t found fresh game in weeks, and temperatures are still dropping. Unless our luck or the weather changes significantly, there’s a good chance we’ll either starve or die of hypothermia before we make it back around.”

“Maybe,” Ymir argued, “but that doesn’t change the fact that if we stay and fight we’ll be massacred. There’s no way our group can take on a hundred titans. We’ve barely been able to fend off the latest attacks—and the most titans we've faced at once is twenty.”

No one disagreed. Ymir was right, and all four of them knew it.

And suddenly, the horrible reality of their situation hit Jean with such force that it nearly stole the breath from his lungs.

“We’re going to die either way,” he uttered as he reached the same conclusion that Cap and Clio must have reached earlier. He looked between the two soldiers, daring them to deny it. “I’m right, aren’t I?” He asked when they offered no reply, hoping that one of them would contradict him.

But they didn’t. A pained look flitted across Cap’s stoic face. “It’s very likely,” he said quietly.

Jean felt like his world was collapsing, and apparently he wasn’t the only one.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ymir spat out next to him. She was practically shaking, her usual sarcasm and composure completely gone. “We travel nearly seven hundred miles, through all kinds of fucking hell, and for what? To die now? When we’re this close?” She snorted out an incredulous huff. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

Jean stared at his friend in shock. He had never seen Ymir act like this before. No matter the situation, she’d always been able to stay detached. Sure she was pessimistic, but she was also cool and collected. Now it was like she’d snapped. Not knowing what else to do, he tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but Ymir shrugged him off.

“No,” she barked at him, her brown eyes flashing with anger. “I don’t want anyone’s pity or comfort.” Her voice cracked. “I want to live,” she choked out. “I want to make it to Rose and see my girl again. But apparently that’s too much to ask. Instead, I got to survive up to now just so I could die bloody or starve. It’s a fucking joke!” She kicked at the fire, sending a flare of embers crackling into the sky. “You know, I wish we’d just gotten blown to shit with the rest of Maria. At least that would have been a quick way to go.”

Jean sucked in a breath. “Wait!” He exclaimed. “Ymir, that’s it!”

She looked at him sharply, frowning. “What’s it?”

“An explosion,” he answered, his gaze shifting between her, Cap, and Clio. “We don’t have to fight the titans,” he said, his voice rising with excitement. “We can blow them up. Cap—do you remember when we were at Eden and you asked us to do a weapons inventory and stock up?”

Levi nodded.

“Well, we did, and in addition to all of the steel we found, there was also quite a bit of—”

“Dynamite,” Ymir breathed, her eyes going wide. “Shit, you’re right. And we took it with us.” She laughed, and this time the sound was like a bubble of hope. “Mule, you’re a genius!”

But Cap didn’t seem to share their enthusiasm. If anything, he seemed put off by their newfound hope.

And Jean understood why a second later.

“It’s a good idea,” Levi said, “but we can’t use the dynamite to blow up their camp.”

“Why the hell not?” Ymir asked, incredulous.

“Because of its location,” Cap answered. He sighed. “The pathway through the mountains is extremely narrow—the trail bottlenecks pretty drastically before it widens again, meaning that if we set off an explosion, it will likely bring down thousands of pounds of rock and debris from the mountains above it and block our route. It’ll also likely cause an avalanche, and because of the snowstorms we’ve been having, you can bet it will be a big one.”

Jean stared at the shorter man, the hope he'd had moments before dwindling down to bleak hopelessness. There wasn't a word strong enough to convey the demoralization he felt in that moment. “So what you’re saying is that we’d effectively be destroying our only way through,” he said.

Levi nodded solemnly. “That's exactly what I'm saying. Remember how the titans bombed us when we were in the mines under the mountain? They essentially buried us. The only reason we were able to continue on was because they blocked off our retreat but not our egress. But this isn't the same scenario. If we explode their camp, we’ll be trapped on the wrong side of the debris—if we don’t get killed by it to begin with.”

So that was it, then. They were back at square one again, every option they had still ending with their deaths.

The heaviness of it all nearly buckled Jean where he stood.

But suddenly Clio, who had been a silent observer up until that point, held up a finger. “Hold on,” he said, and Jean could see the gears turning in the hybrid’s mismatched eyes. “We may not be able to use the dynamite to blow up the camp, but maybe we can still use it to our advantage.”

In a fluid motion that Jean had witnessed many times before but still rattled him because of its impossible speed, Clio unsheathed his katana and angled the blade towards the ground. Using his foot, the hybrid cleared a small patch of snow to reveal the muddy earth beneath. “I’ll show you what I mean—if you’re interested?” He asked, glancing over at Levi.

The Reaper crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “All options are worth exploring at this point. Go ahead.”

They all stepped in close as Clio used the point of his katana to draw an X in the mud. “If we’re here,” he said, “and the titan camp is here—” he drew another X a few inches behind the first and then flanked it with two mountainous shapes “—then we do have a little room to work with.” He made a circle off to the right between the two spots he’d marked. “This area is where we can stage a diversion.” He jabbed the tip of his blade into the middle of the circle. “Here’s what I’m thinking. If we use part of our dynamite cache to set off an explosion, the titans will likely come investigate. Think about it: the first two raiding parties that attacked us last week were only ten strong, but the final party was a double—twenty titans, meaning that whoever’s in charge realizes that we are a greater threat than they initially anticipated. When the first two raiding parties didn’t return, they sent twice as many, but we killed them, too, so I'd wager that if we make our presence known with something as dramatic as an explosion, even more titans will come. And that,” he concluded with another jab of his katana, “is when we set off the rest of the dynamite.”

Jean gawked at the brilliance of the hybrid’s idea. “It’s just like a mousetrap,” he said, stunned. “We draw them in and then we hit 'em hard.”

Clio nodded. “That’s the idea.”

“But you didn’t say trap,” Ymir pointed out. “You said diversion.”

“That’s because it _will_ be a diversion,” Clio confirmed. “If this plan works – and I think it will – the titan forces will be split.” He began to draw lines connecting his marks in the mud. “A good chunk of them will go _here_ , to see what caused the explosion, while the rest remain at base. So, if we time it right, one person can set off the dynamite while the rest of the group makes for the pass. Instead of sixteen of us against one hundred, the odds will be more like fifteen against fifty or less.” He paused. “Failure is obviously still possible, but at least we’d be giving ourselves a fighting chance.”

Jean was so happy that he could have cheered—right up until he realized the one fatal flaw in the plan. “Wait,” he said, his brow furrowing. “What about the person who stays to set off the dynamite? To kill that many titans, the second explosion is going to have to be big. How will they clear the blast area in time?”

The hybrid’s lips pulled up in a sad little tilt. “There’s always a catch,” he said.

A heavy silence descended on the group.

“So one of us has to sacrifice ourselves,” Ymir eventually voiced.

Clio glanced over at Cap, meeting the Reaper’s eyes so briefly that Jean couldn’t interpret the look that passed between them.

Clio flicked the mud off of his katana and sheathed it. “Not necessarily,” he said. “There is obviously a good chance that the explosion will kill the person who sets it, but if they survey the area prior to detonating the cache, they can try to find something nearby that can act as a natural shield against the explosion and then set the dynamite to their advantage. It's not foolproof by any means, but at least it will give them a few extra seconds to get away and a small margin of safety. Then, if the main group is successful in killing the titans that remain at the base camp, the soloist can join back up with them.”

Jean appreciated that Clio was trying to be optimistic, but he knew that the hybrid was reaching. Whoever stayed behind to set off the explosions would most likely die, and Jean knew without being told that it was going to be one of the four of them.

He looked around at their tiny group. Cap couldn’t do it—he was the leader, and Jean couldn’t imagine the group making it to Rose without him. And Clio was invaluable; he was the strongest fighter next to Cap and he had also become a sort of leader to the group. As for Ymir, well, she was his friend; he didn't want her to die.

Which left only one option.

Jean took a breath. “I’ll do it.”

Ymir gawked at him. “Like hell, Mule.”

“Ymir, it’s gotta be one of us. There just aren’t any other options.”

“What about Ed?” She suggested, putting her hands on her hips. “That guy is always looking for ways to help.”

“We can’t ask a civilian to do this,” Clio interjected. “They don't have the training and it wouldn’t be right to put such a crucial responsibility on their shoulders.”

“I agree,” Cap added, silencing the argument. “It needs to be one of us.”

Ymir’s shoulders slumped. “Well shit,” she uttered, glancing at Jean. “If you’re volunteering, I guess I should too. I’m not going to let you show me up.”

Her tone was flippant, but Jean could see the fear in her eyes. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “You're always showing _me_ up," he said with much more levity than he felt. "Let's take turns for a change.”

Cap stepped forward, holding out his hands. “This isn't a democracy," he said firmly. "I'll decide who it will be. In the meantime, I need you two to go see exactly how much dynamite we have. Report back to me with a precise amount.”

They both nodded and saluted and were about to turn away when Cap spoke again.

“Oi," he said, regaining their attention. Jean looked back, waiting. "It was...very brave of you both to volunteer," the Reaper said. There was a strange look in the his eyes, one that Jean couldn't define. "I know it's a moot point now, but the two of you would've made fine Legion soldiers.”

Jean’s pride swelled at Cap’s words, despite the gravity of their present situation. "Thanks, Cap," he said huskily. "That means a lot."

Ymir snorted. "C'mon, Mule, don't go getting all sappy. We've got shit to do."

It wasn't her usual show of bravado, but Jean appreciated that she was trying to put on a brave face. "Right," he said, nodding. "Let's go count some dynamite sticks."

 

**

Levi watched Ymir and Jean walk away, noting the proud way they held themselves despite the fear and anxiety they had to be feeling. It was a testament to how far they’d come from the trainees they’d once been.

“It’s funny,” he murmured, reflecting on how much the pair had changed in the time since he’d met them, “those two harassed me for half a year before I finally agreed to train them, and when they started out, they were the biggest disasters I’d ever seen. But now…” He sighed. “If the Legion were still active, I’d choose them both for my squad in a heartbeat. They’re incredible kids.”

Clio stirred next to him, shifting slightly. “Yes, they are.” He paused. “And they have a captain worthy of them,” he added.

Levi glanced up in surprise at that, but then he shrugged. “Cap is just a nickname,” he said. “I’m not even officially a ranking officer.”

“You are in every way that counts,” Clio countered gently. He straightened. “May I ask a favor of you?”

Levi raised a curious brow at him, waiting.

“Will you look after Cody for me?”

Levi frowned, confused. Why the hell would he need to look after Cody? The question didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about?” He asked.

“I’m asking you to keep an eye on Cody when I’m gone,” Clio explained. “Because the odds are stacked pretty drastically against me surviving this.”

Levi was still at a loss. “Surviving what?”

“The explosions,” the hybrid clarified, his human eye full of sad acceptance. “I’ve thought it through, and the solution is simple: _I_ am going to be the one who stays behind. I’ll set the dynamite. I’ll be the diversion.”

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that Clio would volunteer, given that they’d agreed only moments earlier that it would be one of the four of them, but it still did.

Before Levi could say anything, though, Clio barreled on. “Hear me out, Captain,” he said. “It _needs_ to be me. We’ve already established that it can’t be a civilian—they don’t have the training necessary to conduct a solo operation, but it also shouldn’t be Ymir or Jean; they’re just too young. They have their whole lives ahead of them. If they make it to Rose, they’ll have a place, a future. But I won’t, because _this_ —” he added, gesturing to the titan side of his face “—this won’t fit in. I’d be an outcast at Rose, just like I was an outcast at Maria.” He dropped his hand and sighed, staring into the fire. “And all that aside, the truth is that there is no one better for this job than me. I’m adept at using explosives, I have the most field experience in the group, and I’m faster than any ordinary human.” He looked back, meeting Levi’s gaze. “The truth is, Captain – whether you want to admit it or not – I am the only choice.”

Levi stared at the other man in silence. There was no doubt in his mind that Clio meant what he was saying. If Levi gave the order, Clio would lay down his life for the group. Not that that came as a surprise. After all, the hybrid had proven his protectiveness and loyalty time and again, and he’d never once complained about the distrust he’d endured. He’d persevered in spite of it, and now he was held in high esteem by nearly everyone.

And he deserved it. Clio Jones was a better man than most, and far wiser than anyone Levi had ever known.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was wrong.

There _was_ another choice, and it was a choice that Levi had realized was the right one pretty soon after Clio had started talking.

“You’re not going to stay behind,” he told the hybrid. “I am.”

It was clear that Clio had not been expecting that. His lips parted in surprise. “Captain, you can’t—”

Levi held up a hand. “Yes, I can,” he said.

Ever the voice of reason, Clio immediately tried to talk him out of it. “Levi, you’re the leader. The group needs you.”

That was the first problem Levi had thought of, too, but the answer was literally right in front of him. “The group needs _a_ leader, not me, and you’re as cut out for the position as I am.” He paused, thinking of the hybrid’s unceasingly diplomatic nature. “Actually, you’re probably a better fit.”

“Captain—”

“Give it a rest, Jones. I’ve made up my mind, so just shut up and listen.”

Clio crossed his arms, perturbed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You know the route to Rose, you’re the best damn fighter we have, and the group has come to trust you. It makes sense for you to take over; it’s almost like we were preparing for this transition anyway.” Levi touched his healing ribs. “Because of this shit, you’ve been taking point more than I have the last few weeks.” He grimaced as the press of his fingers caused a flare of pain. “Besides,” he added, dropping his hand, “I don’t think I have another fight in me. I’ll be of more use to the group by blowing myself up and taking a few dozen of those rabid fucks with me.”

“That’s not true,” Clio argued, his eyebrows knitted together. “You are the rock that’s held this group together—and you’re the only reason we had a chance of surviving this western passage to begin with. The group rallies behind you—they always have.”

“They’ve also rallied behind you, and right now, you’re in much better shape than I am.” Levi cocked a brow. “Don't believe me? Then answer this: which of us is more capable of fighting a horde of titans right now?”

Clio dropped his gaze, withholding an answer.

Which was all the answer Levi needed.

He snorted. “Exactly. You don’t want to admit it, but you know I’m right.” He paused. “And besides, you have Cody to think about. You’re her family now, and I expect you to be there for her. So did Petra.”

In a way, it was Cody that had made Levi realize that _he_ was the one who needed to stay behind. That little girl had become Clio’s family, and she would need him if they made it to Rose.

But no one would need an injured pseudo-captain like him. He was alone, unwanted, little more than a lingering trace of an all but defunct branch of the military.

Everyone in the group had people they were trying to get home to, or people traveling with them that they cared about, but Levi didn’t. Everyone he cared about, everyone he loved, was gone.

“There’s nothing for me at Rose,” he admitted quietly. “Just ghosts and memories.”

Clio placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You have friends, Levi. People who care about you. That won’t disappear when you get to Rose.”

Levi glanced up at the hybrid. There was conviction in his hazel eye, but it was the conviction of someone who still had something left to live for. “I know,” he answered numbly, “but it’s not the same.” He clenched his jaw. “Besides, I’m tired of losing people. To borrow Kirschtein’s expression, it’s my turn. This time, I’ll stay behind and do what needs to be done.”

Clio dropped his hand away from Levi’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“Nothing.”

Clio pursed his lips, still troubled, still looking like he wanted to argue, but he nodded reluctantly. “Very well.” He straightened up. “I disagree with you, but you are the leader and I will respect your decision, just as I respect you.” He clasped his hands behind his back, his stance gaining a business-like quality. “So,” he said. “What are your orders, Captain?”

Levi straightened up as well. “Go tell Ymir and Jean what we’ve decided and then gather the group. We’ll tell everyone the plan and set out first thing tomorrow.”

“All right.”

“But we’ll keep the part about me blowing myself into the next life between us and Jean and Ymir.”

A pained look crossed Clio’s face. “Are you sure? I know it would demoralize the group, but at least you’d be able to say goodbye—and you deserve that much, at the very least.”

Levi ignored the way his heart seized up, keeping his expression neutral. “I’m sure,” he said. “It’s not worth it; the group needs to be as resilient as possible when they attack the titan camp, and this kind of news would only shake everyone up. Besides, goodbyes don’t change anything anyway.”

Clio was silent for a long time, watching him, but eventually he conceded to Levi’s wishes with a nod. “Okay,” he said. “No goodbyes, then. But there is one thing that needs saying." He paused. "I wouldn't feel right parting ways without telling you, Levi, that you are the best commanding officer I’ve ever served under.” He saluted, holding the posture as he met Levi’s eyes. “It’s been an honor, Captain.”

Touched and somewhat surprised by the emotion in the hybrid’s voice, Levi returned his salute. “The feeling’s mutual, Jones,” he responded, meaning it. “It’s why I feel confident leaving the group under your command; I know you won’t let our people down.” His lips tugged up slightly. “After all, you have a pretty good track record.”

“Not as good as yours.”

“Give it time.” Levi dropped his hand. “Now let’s go tell everyone what we’re up against.”

 

**

The morning was cold and clear, and they reached the agreed upon diversion point well before noon.

Clio held up a hand, halting the group.

“All right,” he said, uttering the first words anyone had spoken since they’d set out. “Drop the packs.”

Ymir and Jean shrugged the laden packs off of their shoulders and carefully placed them on the forest floor.

Clio glanced over at Levi, watching as the shorter man picked up the discarded cargo. He shouldered one pack on top of the pack he was already carrying and strapped the other onto his chest. His face remained impassive, but Clio caught the way his legs buckled slightly beneath the burden of extra weight.

He stepped in close and lowered his voice. “You okay?” He asked.

Levi grimaced. “Okay enough to get to the job done,” he replied.

“Captain,” Ed called, walking over to where they were. “You sure you don’t want help? Me an’ Bird could each take a pack and go with you.”

Aside from Ed, Bertrand – aka Bird – was the largest man in the group, and while somewhat skittish in social situations, he’d proven himself capable during a fight.

Of course, neither Bird nor Ed knew that their esteemed leader would be going on a one-way trip.

Levi shook his head in response to Ed’s offer. “No. Stay with Clio—we need all the manpower we have in order to wipe out the titan camp. I’ll be fine.” He adjusted the packs and straightened up, turning to Clio. “I hope this plan of yours works,” he said.

 _So do I._ “It will.”

Levi nodded, his hooded eyes full of focus and determination. “Good luck.”

“You too, Captain.” He was about to say something else when he caught sight of Jean and Ymir in his periphery. They’d both reacted badly the previous night when they'd learned of the Reaper’s decision, and while there had been a few volatile, emotional words exchanged between them and their captain as they attempted to change Levi's mind, in the end they’d both bit their tongues and listened, because regardless of their personal feelings, they weren’t about to disobey direct orders. But right now, neither of them looked like they were going to be able to keep their composure for much longer. If Levi stayed, the ruse would be up and everyone would know the truth.

Again, Clio lowered his voice so that only Levi could hear him. “You’d better get out of here,” he warned, purposely shifting his gaze to the younger soldiers as he spoke.

Levi seemed to get the hint. He stepped away and raised his voice, addressing the group at large. “We have one chance at this,” he said, “so let’s make it count. When you attack, attack hard, and don’t stop until every single titan is dead. Understood?”

Murmurs and cheers of assent filled the void left by his question, and Levi nodded, satisfied. “Okay. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He looked over at Jean and Ymir, and then his eyes met Clio’s one last time. A few unspoken words passed between them, and then Clio did the only thing that felt right in the situation: he saluted the man who had given him a chance when no one else wanted to, the man who had entrusted the group’s safety to him, the man whom he would miss—if, of course, he and the others survived the day.

And then he watched as Levi turned and walked away into the woods.

He swallowed against the small lump in his throat and refocused his attention to the group. _His_ group, now.

“Okay,” he said, rallying. “Let's get into position.”

 

 **

Every step with the weight of the extra packs was a struggle, but for once Levi welcomed the pain. After all, soon enough he wouldn’t be able to feel much of anything, so he might as well enjoy every last sensation—even the shitty ones.  

Clio had paced out the decided upon location the night before and told Levi what to look for, and well within the hour, Levi arrived at the place in question.

It was a small clearing—probably no more than twenty yards wide in any direction. Levi walked to the center and took off the pack on his chest, unzipping the top pocket. They’d tied the eight sticks of dynamite together with twine, making sure to keep the wicks accessible, so Levi simply removed the bundle and placed it on top of the pack, using the simple canvas as a makeshift sheet. Then he took a single match from one of his pants pockets and held it aloft. He struck it quickly using his thumbnail—a trick that Kenny had taught him years ago, and then he crouched down and gingerly lit the end of the center stick’s wick. It began to fizzle and spark, and Levi jogged to the edge of the clearing that seemed furthest from the center, hustling despite the pain in his ribs. Bracing himself against a tree, he turned and watched as the fuse shortened and the air began to grow smoky, and then he plugged his ears.

_Three…two…one…_

The boom of the explosion was deafening, and Levi winced at the sound as the ground shook around him. Flames soared skyward, filling the clearing with a bright light, and a few stray birds that had been hidden in nearby trees shot out of the barren canopies, cawing in terror as they flew away.

 _They had to have heard that,_ Levi thought, staring up at the chimney of black smoke curling in the air. _Maybe they even felt it._

He wondered how long it would take for the titans to come, and how much longer after that Clio and the others would attack the camp. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It was impossible to know, and even more impossible to guess what would happen when they did. Levi hoped that they would win, that they would live, but even if Clio’s plan was a success, their odds were still not great.

 _By sundown, I’ll be ashes and bones and they’ll probably be titan meat,_ he thought grimly, but as quickly as it had come, he pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time to brood on morbid outcomes; he had to focus, to make sure that everything went as planned on his end.

Levi waited until the air and ground settled, and then he strode back to the center of the clearing, depositing the remaining two packs on top of the charred remnants of the first. Methodically, he removed the dynamite bundles and placed them side by side on the ground. Unlike the other pack, these sticks were bundled in groups of twelve, which meant that the explosion would be much bigger than the first, and judging by the blast area left by the first, the second would likely fill the whole clearing.

It would be bad news for the titans, but it was also bad news for him.

_Well, twerp, sometimes you gotta make sacrifices to make progress—isn’t that somethin’ you super soldiers say?_

Levi snorted at the memory of his uncle. It just fucking figured that in his last few minutes on earth, it would be Kenny that popped into his mind.

Then again, it was fittingly ironic. After all, he was about to follow in Kenny’s final footsteps.

With a sigh, Levi stooped down and removed a single stick of dynamite from the cache, and then he walked back to the far edge of the clearing, placing the dynamite in one hand and palming a match in the other.

Now, all he had to do was wait, for the titans and for the end.

 

**

They’d split into three factions just as he’d instructed, and from his elevated vantage point atop the small bluff overlooking the valley, Clio could just see Jean’s group to his far right and Ymir’s group to his far left. Both of them were hanging well back from the titan camp, waiting for his signal.

Clio had to admit that of all the places to stage the attack, this particular valley was ideal. While not as heavily wooded as the surrounding forest above and around it, the wide valley was still filled with enough trees to give them a good measure of security. In fact, the only open, clear stretch of land was the path that led up to the titan camp itself, where it lay nestled between the bases of two jagged peaks. At one point, before nature had reclaimed much of its surface and before titans had walked the earth, the path had been a road used by military and civilian transports alike.

 _How drastically things have changed in just a few short years,_ he thought as he monitored the activity in the titan camp below him.

Even though the bluff he’d chosen for their stakeout jutted upwards, Clio remained prone, not wanting to draw any attention to his location in case the titans had implemented some kind of watch or patrol. His limbs were starting to stiffen from the prolonged inactivity, but Clio pushed the discomfort to the back of his awareness, focusing instead on Ymir and Jean and keeping one eye on the stretch of forest leading away from the right side of the valley, where Levi was supposed to set off the dynamite.

Minutes passed, and then more minutes passed, and just when Clio was beginning to think something had gone wrong, the first explosion happened. It wasn’t as big as he’d hoped it would be, but it was still a spectacle—the _boom_ of it reverberating into the valley as a plume of smoke rose skyward amidst a barren canopy about a half-mile away.

Clio heard the collective gasps of his other group members standing further below him on the bluff, and suddenly Sasha crawled up next to him, stretching out and peeking over the edge. “Do you think it worked?” She breathed, her eyes bright with hopeful curiosity.

Clio nodded and dipped his head toward the far end of the valley, where the titan camp lay nestled between a break in the mountains. “Look for yourself,” he said.

“I can’t tell what’s going on, Jones,” she said with a pout. “Human eyes, remember?”

“Right.” It was easy to forget, sometimes, that the rest of the world didn’t share his enhanced eyesight. “They’ve formed a pretty big circle in the middle of the camp,” he relayed. “They’re talking, and some of them are gesturing towards the explosion. And now…” He trailed off, watching as a massive titan parted the crowd and held up a muscled arm, calling for silence. The thing had to be well over six feet tall, and it was built like a brick wall.

It was, without a doubt, the largest titan Clio had ever seen. And it was, also without a doubt, the commander.

“And now what?” Sasha whispered. “What’s going on?”

“I think I found the leader,” he replied quietly.

The large titan conversed with the others for a few minutes, and then the entire group dispersed.

Clio held his breath, praying that his assumption would be proven right.

It was.

Less than two minutes later, three units came streaming out of the camp and started off across the valley, heading for the forest.

“Thirty down…” He said absently.

Sasha jerked her head sharply in his direction. “Thirty?” She hissed, the hope in her eyes morphing to panic. “That means there’s a good seventy-some titans still at camp. We can’t take all of them out!”

“More will go after the second explosion,” Clio said, crawling backwards until he was far enough away from the edge to stand without being seen by anyone below. He gestured for Sasha to do the same and waited until she stood to turn to the others.

Ed, Bird, Ralph, and Panko were already huddled up, looking at him with strained expressions. Cody was the only one who didn't look afraid—her six-year-old features were scrunched up in determination and she had her daggers gripped tightly in hand. Clio smiled briefly at her before assessing the rest of his group. With the exceptions of Sasha and Cody, each member of his group was large and beefy and had proven their worth in previous attacks. He’d intentionally selected the strongest fighters for his own team because they would be the ones leading the attack.

_The first wave always has to be strong. Knock the enemy back from the outset and then send in reinforcements to finish the job._

It was a strategy he’d learned early on in his military training, and it was more or less today’s game plan.

“All right,” he said, looking from person to person and trying to instill confidence in them. “Captain Levi has set off the first explosion, and three parties of titans have already left the camp. We will move into position in the valley, and wait for the second explosion. Based on what just happened, it’s safe to assume that even more units will be deployed after the next explosion. As soon as they clear the valley, we will attack.” He began walking down the path that led towards the valley. “Stay close,” he said over his shoulder.

If he’d been alone, Clio would have gotten as close as possible to the titan camp to wait for the second explosion, but he couldn’t trust the rest of his group to be as quiet as he was, so he halted them about fifty yards away, making sure they were shielded from sight by the trees.

Luckily, from what Clio could see, none of the titans were paying much attention to…

Suddenly, a clamor of grunts and shouts rose up somewhere east of the camp, and Clio watched in horror as a small cluster of titans disappeared into the trees. Seconds later, a shrill, human scream erupted into the air.

_Ymir’s group!_

“Shit,” he cursed, drawing his katana. He’d been so specific in his instructions—telling Ymir and Jean not to attack until they saw Clio’s group reach the center of the titan camp, but something had gone wrong.

“Change of plans,” he called out to his team. “Ymir’s group is in trouble, which means we need to attack now. Cody, Sasha—hang back as we discussed. Take out as many with that bow as you can," he directed to Sasha, "and Cody, you cover her if any stray titans head this way." The little girl nodded, and Clio felt his throat tighten. He wished he could have kept her out of the fight entirely, but it simply wasn't an option. Forcing himself to push his anxiety about her aside, he turned to the others. "The rest of you, with me. Now!”

He didn’t wait long enough to hear any arguments or protests. Brandishing his katana, Clio charged forward, vocal cords straining as he bellowed out the loudest battle cry he could muster in an attempt to draw attention to himself. The other men with him took it up a moment later, filling the air with a chorus of shouts that could have woken the dead.

Thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards, five…

A group of titans had assembled at the forefront of the camp, waiting with snapping fangs and bared claws as Clio and his group advanced towards them.

And front and center, towering above his underlings, was their imposing commander, his black eyes watching Clio with voracious wrath, his lips pulled back in a snarl to expose his impressive mouthful of fangs.

Clio narrowed his eyes and let his own fangs descend.

 _You’re mine,_ he vowed, and then the two groups collided in a clash of steel, claw, tooth, and blood.

 

**

In the wake of the explosion, quietness descended on the forest, imbuing the scorched clearing with a strange sense of calm.

As Levi waited for the titans to come, his mind drifted, inevitably, to the past. Ever since Maria, he’d tried not to think of the people he’d lost, to put the grief behind him and focus on the people that were still alive, but now...well, what was the point? He was no longer in charge, and no one was relying on him to fight the good fight and persevere. Now he was a ticking time bomb (almost literally), and his exhausting battle with life was finally coming to a close.

He expected that thought to bring him peace, but it just left him with an unsettling numbness in his bones. His life had been an endless tapestry of mistakes and misadventures, each strand of it stained with blood and death and sorrow. He’d survived his family, his friends, his lover, had lived just long enough to see the world get overrun by monsters and everything turn to shit. _That_ was his story, his legacy: loss, regret, shit, and misery. Sure, happiness was a concept he’d understood once, briefly, with Jocelyn, but by now he’d long forgotten what it was to feel anything but tired and depressed.

Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad in comparison, even if there was nothing after it. At least nothingness wouldn’t be painful.

Before he could dwell on those thoughts in any more detail, the relative silence of the moment was shattered by the sounds of heavy feet approaching. Moments later, the first titan came into view.

It drew to a halt as the trees parted, signaling to the titans behind it to follow suit. Its black eyes roved the terrain, homing in on the scorched earth and the small bundle resting in its midst.

 _Go on,_ Levi urged silently. _Take the bait._

But the titan stayed where it was. More and more titans came pouring into the clearing, but all of them stopped near the first, standing well back from the cache of dynamite.

Levi had hoped – in vain, he now realized – that the titans would go and inspect the dynamite, which would subsequently allow him to explode the lode without the need to get too close. Levi had thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , he might be able to stand clear enough of the blast to survive it.

 _It was a futile hope, anyway,_ he thought with grim acceptance. _I was always going to die here._

Steeling himself, Levi took a breath and stepped from his hiding place, coming into full view of the titans.

“Hey, shitheads,” he called out, looking on in satisfaction as, en masse _,_ their heads snapped in his direction. Certain that he had their collective attention, he spoke again. “Watch.”

And then he struck the match and lit the fuse of the lone stick of dynamite he was holding. The wick caught and sputtered to life, causing a few of the titans to stamp at the ground. Levi dropped the used match and held the stick out, waving it back and forth in the air as he walked a few paces to the right. He stopped once he had positioned himself so that the titans would have to cross directly over the bundles of dynamite to reach him, and then he waved the lit stick once more.

The nearest titan growled at him, and Levi sneered in return.

“Come and get me, fuck face,” he taunted. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a moment of stasis, and then the titan that had growled at him charged, closing the distance between them with blinding speed.

The others followed seconds later, rushing at him with murder shining in their dead, black eyes.

Levi held his ground, keeping one eye on the titans and one eye on the small flame moving inexorably down the length of the wick. If it was going to work, he had to time it right.

He wasn’t as studied in pyrotechnics as Clio, but he’d thrown enough grenades to correctly gauge the precise moment to send them flying, and he applied the same logic now. When the hissing flame was only about three inches from the blasting cap, Levi retracted his arm and then lunged forward, releasing the stick of dynamite. It twirled through the air, heading straight for the bundles of dynamite in the center of the clearing.

A few of the titans stopped and turned as it arced above their heads, but most of them kept rushing forward.

It would only be a matter of seconds before the first titan reached him, but it didn’t matter; the dynamite would explode before then.

Ignoring the titans, Levi watched as the airborne stick of dynamite began its descending spiral, and then he exhaled and looked skyward, resting his fingers on the boomerang Jocelyn had given him just as the stick landed on top of the cache.

A pause, and then... _eruption_.

There was a small blast and then a much, much larger one, and the last thing Levi saw was a blaze of white light coming towards him. He felt the impact of a heavy body crashing into his own, blistering heat, and a blinding pain in his right shoulder.

And then the light was gone, the air was ripped from his lungs, and Levi felt nothing at all.

 

**

The humans were _everywhere_.

At least, that was how it felt to Balbo.

Their camp had devolved into total chaos in the span of a few minutes, and no matter which way he turned, his eyes were met with pandemonium. There was fighting and death and blood all around.

The audacity of the humans had taken all of them by surprise, but that surprise had been quickly displaced by panic as the titans realized that these humans were not like the humans they normally encountered. These humans were guerrilla warriors—fierce, fast, and seemingly unafraid, and they were everywhere, attacking from all angles. There was even a second cohort of them somewhere farther off in the forest, as indicated by the explosion they’d seen.

But despite the surprise of the multiple attacks and the boldness of the explosion, Balbo had thought that he and the others would quickly regain the upper hand. He’d felt confident, right until the creature had appeared on the path.

Balbo had never seen anything quite like the man-vampire that came charging towards them, and he’d never seen anyone fight like him. Without ever breaking his stride, the strange half-breed ran full force into Commander Demetrius, slender sword and fangs extended.

Commander Demetrius had a reputation for being one of the best fighters in their ranks: he was incredibly strong and brutal, and he was known for literally ripping his victims apart. Balbo had never seen anyone even come close to scratching the fearsome leader.

Until now.

The half-breed moved so fast he was almost a blur, dodging every swipe of Demetrius’ claws with seeming ease while simultaneously slashing with his long sword, leaving stripes of blood on Demetrius’ thick skin. It enraged the commander, but Demetrius was adaptable; he began to anticipate his enemy’s moves, twisting away from the slice of the strange creature’s blade until finally, he landed a blow of his own, slashing his claws straight across the half-breed’s throat.

But the half-breed didn’t collapse, as Balbo was expecting. He’d jumped back just far enough that the claws merely glanced his skin, and he recovered with astonishing speed. He twirled around, black clothes billowing around him, and came up behind Commander Demetrius, extending his sword for a killing strike.

The commander moved out of the way just in time, growling in fury, and he rounded on the other man, lunging forward with his fangs extended while also reaching for the sword. The half-breed was able to avoid the snap of Demetrius’ jaws, but the titan commander succeeded in disarming him. Balbo watched as the sword skittered away from the fighting figures, and then he watched as his commander’s lipless mouth opened in the simulation of a smile.

“Got you,” he hissed as he wrapped his talons around the leaner man’s arms and yanked him in close. The commander gripped his victim hard and began to pull, and Balbo knew what was coming next: the ripping. Demetrius was going to literally wrench the humanoid creature apart with his massive claws.

Except that he didn’t. The half-breed’s grimace of pain morphed into an almost smug grin, his strange eyes beginning to weep black as the veins darkened in his face. And then, before the commander even had time to process what was happening, the humanoid creature’s head snapped forward, long fangs extended, and he latched on to Demetrius’ neck. The commander shrieked, eyes widening, and Balbo watched on in paralyzed horror as, in one savage motion, the half-breed tore his commander’s throat out. He held it between his teeth like a trophy, watching on with unblinking eyes as blood sprayed everywhere. Commander Demetrius’ grip loosened, and a second later, he crumpled to the ground, dead.

Only then did the victorious attacker spit out the dead titan’s throat. “No,” he muttered as blood dripped down his fangs and chin, the words just loud enough for Balbo to hear. “Got _you_.”

And then, while Balbo was still reeling from the incredible defeat he’d just witnessed, the second explosion occurred.

It was much larger than the first, the roaring _boom_ of it echoing from the forest out to the valley and the camp, and Balbo watched as a large column of bright, angry flames burst skyward. He could hear a few humans beginning to cheer in the aftermath of the explosion, and then he heard Demetrius’ second barking orders to Balbo’s unit.

“Into the forest!” The lieutenant shouted at Balbo and the others, but his eyes were focused on the half-breed that had just killed their commander. “We’ll finish up here,” he vowed, guttural voice full of promise.

Balbo didn’t wait to see what would happen. Still somewhat in shock, he stumbled into line with the rest of his unit and ran for the forest.

He took one last look back at the camp before it disappeared from sight, wondering if it or anyone in it would still be left when he got back.

He also began to wonder, as he listened to the crackle of burning wood and saw the smoke cloud looming before him, if he would even survive long enough to find out.    

 

**

The pain was excruciating, which was how Levi knew that, despite all odds, he was still alive.

There was a loud, high-pitched ringing in his ears, and every inch of his body was aching. Wincing, he tried to draw in a breath, only to be rewarded with a mouthful of dirt. He coughed and sputtered, choking, and then, realizing what the problem was, he raised his head a few inches off of the ground, his neck protesting vehemently as he did so.

Levi blinked slowly, trying to focus on his immediate surroundings. The explosion had pulverized the titans, and the clearing – which was now much wider than it had been before – was strewn with body parts and soaked in ash and blood. The leafless trees nearest the impact sight had been blown back, as if the bare branches were trying to flee the scene, and a few of the more slender trunks had even snapped entirely from the pressure of the blast wave. Many of them were scorched or burning.

As Levi struggled to all fours, he realized that there were scorch marks on much of his clothing and a few raw patches of skin where he must have been burned, though there was no blistering. His shoulder was throbbing, and there was blood running down from the circle of teeth marks the titan had left there, but the damage was nothing compared to what it could have been.

His head was spinning, his ears were ringing, he could taste blood in his mouth, his limbs were shaking, and he couldn’t breathe properly, but for some unknown reason, he was still alive.

And as a fresh wave of titan reinforcements poured into the decimated area, Levi realized, with cruel irony, that he wanted to _stay_ alive.

Using what little reserve strength he had left, Levi pushed himself to his feet, unsheathed his machete, and unclipped his boomerang.

 _You can’t fight your way outta this, pipsqueak,_ Kenny’s voice taunted him. _There’s one of you, ten of them, and you’re pretty much dead already._

 _Try, Levi, try,_ came the fainter echo of Jocelyn’s voice.

Levi set his jaw and squared his shoulders. He could barely grip his weapons, and he couldn’t hear the titans as they charged towards him because his ears were still ringing painfully, but he didn’t care.

He might not be at his best, might not even be anywhere close to okay, but he was a Reaper. If he was going to die, he was going to go down fighting.

 

**

He’d regained his katana after killing the commander’s second-in-command, and ever since then Clio had fallen into an almost trance-like calm, slashing and striking with deadly precision as titan after titan rushed at him and the bodies piled up around him.

Which was why, when one of them grabbed his arm, Clio turned and sliced without thinking.

But this one – much smaller than the others – ducked beneath his blade.

“Clio!” It shrieked, raising its hands above its head.

Clio blinked in shock, immediately snapped out of his blood haze. _“Mikasa?”_ He breathed, incredulous.

The vampire stood up, her delicate features twisted into a grimace of worry. “Where’s Levi?” She asked.

Clio glanced off in the direction of the explosion. “Over there,” he said, crestfallen. “He’s the one who set off the dynamite.”

A determined look stole across Mikasa’s face and she nodded grimly before turning away.

Clio grabbed her arm. “Mikasa, don’t,” he pleaded. “He’s—he’s gone.”

The vampire shrugged out of his grasp. “No, he’s not,” she said. “He’s...” She trailed off, taking in the carnage around them, her brows furrowing as she seemed to realize the exigency of the group's situation.

The indecision she was battling was obvious to Clio, and he used it to try and sway her. "Mikasa, I know you're anxious about Levi, but please. Stay and fight. We need you here."

It was clear by the expression on her face that he'd said the right thing. Mikasa's lips pressed into a flat line. "All right. What do you need me to do?"

"Go check on Ymir's group. Something went wrong early on and they might need backup."

Mikasa nodded. "I'll go. But Clio, if they're okay..."

"Then yes," he yielded. "You can go and see if Levi is still—"

"He is," she insisted, and she took off running before Clio could argue with her. Almost as sudden as her departure, the momentary lull in the battle ceased and Clio had no more time to dwell on the vampire's return or the fate of the doomed Reaper. He adjusted his grip on his katana and once more began to fight.

 

**

Levi let the boomerang fly just as the first two titans reached him, and the double-bladed weapon sliced gracefully across one of the titan’s throats before sailing back to Levi’s outstretched hand. He threw it again and then hacked down the titan in front of him, gripping the hilt of his machete with both hands and striking again and again at the junction of the titan’s shoulder and neck until he finally pierced its hardened skin and arterial blood sprayed out from the wound.

Blinking against the blood in his eyes, Levi yanked the weapon out of the titan and stumbled back, breathing hard. The next titan bowled him over, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending his machete flying away. The creature was heavy, and it nearly crushed Levi's windpipe as it slashed and bit at him.

Trying to ignore the fresh flares of pain where the titan tore at his skin, Levi squirmed beneath its bulk and managed to reach down and retrieve the dagger strapped to his boot. He brought the blade up and stabbed at the titan's face once, twice, and then, on the third time, he successfully plunged the short blade into one of its eyes. The creature jerked as blood and pulp ran from its ruined eye, and then it slumped over.

Leaving the dagger where it was, Levi grimaced and heaved the titan off of him, rolling out from beneath it and sputtering as he finally managed to gulp down air and feed his starving lungs.

He looked up just in time to see the next titan come lunging for him, and Levi crawled forward, reaching for his machete.

Not in time. The titan fell on him before he could retrieve his weapon, crushing him facedown into the ground, and a second later Levi felt its sharp fangs on the nape of his neck.

 _Fuck!_ He screamed silently, realizing with horror that it had him.

But the fatal bite never came.

The titan loosened its grip and relaxed, dead weight, on top of him.

Mustering up a last bout of strength, Levi rolled the titan off of him and then immediately realized why it hadn’t finished him off.

Jocelyn’s boomerang was sticking out of the back of its skull.

Levi’s eyes widened in bewilderment. _What the hell…?_ The last he’d seen of his boomerang, it had been arcing away for him, headed into the fray of oncoming titans.

Maybe one of the titans had thrown it, with the intent of hitting him, and hit one of their own instead. It seemed highly unlikely, but Levi didn’t question his lucky break. He reached out, grabbed his machete, and once more pushed himself to his feet, determined to make the most of his second chance.

And then he froze in shock, staring at the blur of movement that was currently dispatching the remaining titans.

The familiar, dark-haired blur of movement.

The machete fell from his hand as Levi took in the impossible sight before him. Never, not in a million years, had Levi ever expected to see her again, and yet here she was.

_Mikasa._

It couldn’t be, but it was. There was no mistaking her.

Mikasa had returned.

He was still standing there, staring, as one by one the titans fell, and then, when all five were dead and the sounds of battle were over, Mikasa turned towards him.

She retracted her fangs as the dark veins beneath her eyes began to lighten. “Levi?” She called out, tentatively.

_It can’t be real. It can’t be. No one ever comes back._

He watched as Mikasa tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and took a few steps in his direction. Her moves were cautious and slow, unsure, so different from the confidence she’d displayed moments earlier.

She stopped when she was a few yards away from him, the uncertainty in her expression giving way to concern. “Levi?” She said again.

His eyes roved over her from head to foot. She _looked_ real, solid, and yet it was so hard to believe that she was actually standing there, that she’d come back, that she wasn’t just a figment his imagination had conjured up as he laying bleeding out on the ground. In fact, given the circumstances,  _that_ seemed more plausible than the idea that Mikasa - who had left weeks ago and traveled to who-knows-where with a bunch of vampires - had miraculously reappeared just in time to save him like some shining vampiric knight. Not only did that scenario seem impossible, but it also made no sense. Why the hell would Mikasa come back when she'd finally been reunited with her own kind?

Maybe that titan _had_ gotten him, and now he was just enduring some final, cruel hallucination before the end. His life had been a cosmic joke, so why should his death be any different?

And yet, it didn't _feel_ like he was hallucinating, and Mikasa wasn't fading away. She was still standing there, silent and somber, watching him as the seconds ticked by and blood from her titan kills dripped from her face and hands.

“You…you’re real?” Levi finally managed, heavy skepticism lacing his voice.

Mikasa’s lips twisted and her eyebrows knitted together, as if she were wounded by the question. “I’m real.” He saw her throat work as she swallowed. “I…I came back.”

A million thoughts came to mind, a million questions that were all clamoring to be voiced. _When did you get here? How did you find us? Why did you leave the vampires? Weren’t you happy to finally be with your own kind? Did you know we were in danger? Did you come back just to help us?_

The questions raced through Levi’s mind, but in the end, they all merged into the same, simple question, and it was one that surpassed all the others, one that made every other question seem utterly insignificant by comparison.

“Why?” He asked, looking into her dark eyes. “Why did you come back?”

She met his gaze, and the answer was there even before she spoke it, the truth radiating from her very being, so loud and so pure that Levi’s knees almost buckled.

“Because you said I should be with my people,” Mikasa answered, her voice as soft and sure as the dawn. “And you were right.”

It took a minute for the significance of her words to sink in, but when it did, Levi's breath caught in his throat.

"I know you might not feel the same," she continued on in his silence, "but that doesn't change the truth." She smiled, and it was tremulous and small but it was genuine, and it made Levi’s heart ache in a way his heart hadn’t ached in a long time. "It took me a while to figure it out," she added in an even quieter voice than before, "but you and Clio and the others...you _are_ my people."

_You are my people._

Levi stared at her, but it wasn't shock that he felt; it was the acceptance of something he had known for a long time but never fully acknowledged, a fundamental truth that he no longer had a reason or impetus to deny. 

 _You're my people, too, Mikasa,_ he thought, and then he was moving before he'd consciously made the decision to, half-walking, half-limping towards her until he was no more than a breath away.

He looked into her eyes, hoping that she could see past the blood and grime on his face. "I'm glad you're back," he said softly, honestly, and then, propelled by some unknown instinct, he drew her in close and wrapped his arms around her.

Mikasa stiffened for a heartbeat, and then she relaxed into his embrace, her own arms winding around his neck. She placed her head against his, gently, and Levi felt the slight tremor that coursed through her body as she choked back a sob.

There was so much he could have said, but Levi was exhausted and beaten down and overcome with a wealth of emotions he usually didn't experience, so instead he just closed his eyes and took comfort in Mikasa's nearness _._ _  
_

He was wounded and in pain, but, for just a brief, transient moment, Levi remembered what it was like to be almost happy.

 

**

Balbo was watching the scene in the clearing from where he was hidden in the trees, and he looked on in shock as the vampire and human embraced.

Earlier, when the vampire had appeared like some grim spectre and started wiping out his unit, Balbo had fallen back. He'd assumed that, once the vampire had killed his brethren, she would dispatch the human as well, but instead... _this_ had happened.

He couldn't believe it.

First the strange half-breed, and now a hunter and a vampire?

Balbo didn't know what to make of any of it, but he did know what he had to do.

Moving as silently as he could, Balbo retreated from the clearing and headed deeper into the forest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! No lie: I sometimes go back and reread the comments on here when I'm having a bad day. You guys really keep me (and this story) going! :)
> 
> See you next time!


	16. Road to Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Hello? Is anyone still there? Lol. 
> 
> Anyway...I desperately wanted to post this chapter sooner, but real life interfered. Chances are good that updates will continue to be much less frequent than I would like, but I promise that I will not abandon this story. Hopefully you won't either ;)

_Sometimes it is in the quiet moments, those seemingly unimportant moments, that we discover the most profound truths about ourselves._

\- Quote taken from Queen Elisiana's personal memoirs, circa the First Vampiric War

**

 

Mikasa frowned up at the dark, hazy sky, praying that the snow wouldn’t start to fall until they managed to get to the bunker, but the scattered flurries already descending from above proved that her prayer might be in vain.

Setting her lips into a firm line, she gently adjusted Levi’s arm where he had it draped around her shoulders and kept walking.

The Reaper was not in good shape. He was limping badly, favoring his uninjured leg and leaning against her to keep himself balanced. She didn’t mind, but the fact that he was relying so heavily on her was not a good sign. Levi usually eschewed all help no matter how badly he needed it, but now Mikasa was almost dragging him along. On top of that, he was shivering terribly beneath the ripped and burned remains of his clothing, and, excluding the angry reds of his many wounds, his skin was ashen. Worst of all, though, was his breathing. It had been raspy and unsteady before they’d even left the clearing, and it had become increasingly more labored and irregular as they trudged slowly towards the bunker.

And, of course, Mikasa could _feel_ his pain, like a dull, ever-present ache in her own body.

The snow started to come down more heavily a few minutes later, and Mikasa was suddenly jerked to the side as Levi stumbled over his feet. She managed to steady them both, but when she glanced over, she could see the exhaustion on Levi's face. It was a small miracle he hadn’t passed out already, but there was no way he would last much longer.

“How much further?” She asked quietly, her voice strained with worry.

Levi raised his head just enough to peer out from beneath the mess of bangs hiding his eyes. “Not much,” he wheezed after he took a look around. He drew in a shaky breath. “A couple hundred yards or so. We should be able to see it soon.”

“Okay. Can you manage?”

“Yes,” came the terse reply, but Levi didn’t look at her and Mikasa had a feeling that he was bluffing. Still, she started forward again, bearing as much of his weight as he would allow, focusing all her energy on one step, and another, and another.

Levi’s estimation proved right, and Mikasa let out a breath of relief as soon as the sloped walls of the small bunker came into view. By the time they reached the door and Mikasa ushered Levi inside, the snowfall had thickened and the first inch was already sticking to the ground.

“Fucking snow can go fuck itself,” Levi muttered weakly as Mikasa turned and shut and bolted the door behind them.

A weak smile tugged at her lips in spite of their situation. She’d missed Levi’s colorful brand of pessimism more than she’d realized. “It _is_ winter, Levi.”

He made an irritable _tch_ sound. “Winter can go fuck itself, too,” he rejoined dryly before collapsing against the nearest wall. He leaned his head back, and Mikasa could see that his eyes were scrunched tight in pain. She could also see that he was still shivering.

Concern flaring up anew, Mikasa gently guided him to the floor and told him to wait, and then she began searching the bunker for any useful items.

It was relatively small—only three rooms in total. One had a number of cots spread out on the floor that the group had most likely used, so Mikasa grabbed one that looked the least flattened and dirty and carried it back to the first room. She also managed to find a blanket, but only one. It was old and worn but better than nothing, and she carried that back to the other room as well, glancing over at Levi as she did.

The Reaper’s eyes were shut and his head had lulled to the side. “Levi?”

He groaned in response but didn’t open his eyes.

It wasn’t a good sign; Mikasa didn’t know a lot about medical care—she wasn’t a healer and she certainly didn’t have much experience aiding humans, but she knew that, between the blood loss and how cold Levi was, falling asleep could be disastrous.

She knelt down in front of him and shook his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Levi cursed, opening his eyes to glare at her.

“You need to stay awake. Keep your eyes open,” she instructed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Mikasa hurried through the other rooms, scavenging the storage trunks and crates for clothing and medical supplies. Eventually, she managed to find a heavy sweater, a few tins of ointment, and a scant array of gauze and bandages, but there wasn’t much else. Apparently the group had stocked up well before setting out for the titan camp.

When she got back to the room, Levi’s eyes were closed again. She rushed over to him, but Levi held up a hand before she could shake him. “Don’t,” he said wearily. “I’m awake.”

Mikasa knelt down again, sitting back on her heels. “We need to treat your wounds,” she said softly.

Levi blinked his eyes open and nodded, and then he attempted to shrug out of his ruined jacket, but between his fatigue and the tremors shaking his limbs, he didn’t get very far. _“Fuck,”_ he cursed in anger.

Without a word, Mikasa leaned forward and helped him, removing his arms from the jacket as gingerly as she could. And then, before he could protest, her fingers nimbly undid the buttons of his shirt and then she helped him out of that, too. Next, she unlaced his boots and helped him stand up. She reached for the buckle of his belt, but Levi made a sound of protest and she stopped. Clearing his throat, Levi undid the buckle himself and pulled the belt through the loops of his pants before he pushed the tattered fabric down his legs.

 _Oh,_ Mikasa realized, feeling a faint blush stain her cheeks. She’d been so intent on helping him that it hadn’t occurred to her that she was _undressing_ him.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he huffed, and then he stumbled over to the cot she’d carried in and sat down, wincing and shivering as he did.

The hazy light streaming in through the window hit his skin as he did, and Mikasa’s embarrassment disappeared in an instant as she stared in shock at the Reaper.

His muscular body was a canvas of agony, tattooed with cuts and slashes and bite marks and dotted with purple contusions of various sizes. There were patches of raw skin on his arms, a circle of deep teeth marks punctured in his right shoulder, and his other shoulder was sagging at an awkward angle. There were also faded white lines trailing down one side of his chin and neck, evidence of an older attack, but no doubt the work of titan claws.

“Levi…” Mikasa breathed in dismay. “You’re…” But she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know how the man was still alive.

“I’ve been better,” he tossed off, but the wheeze in his voice prevented him from sounding as nonchalant as he’d no doubt intended.

Mikasa went to him. “I found a few supplies. There weren’t any painkillers left and there aren’t enough bandages for all of your injuries, but I can at least treat the worst ones.”

Levi grunted, his steel eyes only half-visible beneath his bangs. “We need to set my shoulder first.”

The terminology was foreign to her. “Set your shoulder?” She repeated dubiously.

“My left shoulder is dislocated,” he explained. “The joint is out of place.”

That must be why it was hanging the way it was, but Mikasa had no experience with such a thing before. She’d never seen or heard of a vampire with a dislocated shoulder, but then again, her people were notoriously hardier than humans. Perhaps dislocations were only a human injury.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted. “What do I need to do?”

With a grimace, Levi lay back on the pallet and bent his left arm at a ninety-degree angle, keeping his elbow tucked close to his side. “Put one hand on my wrist and the other on my bicep,” he instructed.

Mikasa did as he asked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Good. Now, slowly pull my arm out and away from me— _fuck,_ slower than that.” He winced as Mikasa stopped moving his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said, chagrined.

“It’s fine.” He took a breath and set his jaw. “Keep going.”

She did, watching as Levi’s face contorted in pain, and just when she was about to stop and ask if she was doing something wrong, she saw the head of his shoulder pop back into place beneath his skin. She dropped his arm in surprise.

Levi let out a choked breath, his features relaxing. “That’s better,” he murmured. He opened his eyes halfway, staring up at her from beneath his heavy lids. He started to say something, but then his eyes closed again, and within seconds, he was asleep.

Mikasa moved to wake him, but as she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, she decided against it. Instead, she arranged the solitary blanket around his frame as best she could while still keeping the majority of his injuries exposed, and she reached for the ointments she’d found.

Gingerly, she began to dab up the blood covering his body. Most of it had dried and hardened, but some wounds were still fresh, still bleeding, and Mikasa’s fangs stirred at the scent. She grimaced at the involuntary reaction, chagrined at her body’s response. She would never, ever consider feeding on Levi in his weakened, vulnerable state, no matter how hungry she was. He was—

He flinched in his sleep as she began to clean one of his more ragged wounds, and Mikasa froze. The pain hadn’t woken him, but she could see it register in the furrow of his brows.

_He is so human._

It was obvious, really, but it was something she’d almost forgotten when it came to the Reaper. His strength and determination, his seemingly implacable armor, his fearlessness in the face of anything that stood in his way…it was easy to forget that he was just a human. Flesh and blood and a beating heart. So alive. So fragile. By the very humanness of his nature, Levi danced much more intimately with death than she did, and yet somehow he endured anyway.

Mikasa had never seen such strength in so fragile a creature before.

If the rest of the Reapers were anything like Levi, well, Mikasa could understand why the other humans treated them with something akin to hero-worship.

 _But he’s not indestructible,_ she thought as she looked back down at his wounded body. _Neither of us is._

She set back to her task with even more care than before, applying just enough gentle pressure to clean the blood away, trying not to let her hands linger any longer than necessary on his muscular body. The desire to touch him just to feel him was great, but it would be wrong to take advantage of the situation.

Besides, for all she knew, Levi wouldn’t want her hands anywhere near him. She remembered the way he’d looked at her in the beginning, the way he’d spoken the word _vampire_ …like it was a vile taste he wanted to spit out. He’d been disgusted by her, disgusted by what she was.

But she also remembered the way he’d held her that night at Eden and the look in his eyes when his finger had grazed her lip. She remembered when he'd returned her heart and let her go.

Solomon was right; things _had_ changed.

With a quiet sigh, Mikasa pushed away the tumult of complicated thoughts and refocused her effort on attending to the wounded Reaper.

 

**

Armin was doing his best not to stare, but every few seconds he would glance up from the dishes he was scrubbing and look over at his strange house guest, his scientific curiosity to observe everything overriding his manners.

He – Eren, that was – had been sitting at the kitchen table with the bowl of porridge for over five minutes, but he hadn’t eaten a single bite. A few times he looked down at the bowl in what Armin could only describe as consternation, but other than that, he’d remained completely immobile.

When there were no more dishes to wash, Armin dried his hands and slowly approached the kitchen table, then slid back a chair and cautiously sat down across from the former titan.

“Aren’t you hungry?” He asked as it became abundantly clear that Eren was not going to touch his food.

Green eyes blinked up at him and then darted away. “Yes.”

Armin let the other man’s answer hang in the air for a moment. “Do you want something other than porridge?” He ventured, even though, when he’d asked earlier, Eren had specifically asked for porridge.

A flush of color began to spread across his guest’s cheeks. “No, it's...it's not that.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t…I don’t remember how,” he admitted, fidgeting in his seat.

“How to eat?”

Eren shook his head as he met Armin’s eyes. “How to use a spoon.”

A wave of pity rolled through Armin, followed quickly by shame. Of course Eren would have trouble. He’d been a titan for nearly six years; ordinary, everyday human things Armin took for granted were all basically new to the other man. He should have expected difficulties and planned for them instead of letting Eren flounder.

“Not to worry,” Armin said gently, trying for a smile. He reached across the table, ignoring the way Eren flinched away from him, and picked up the spoon. “Like this,” he instructed, turning his hand so Eren could see how each of his fingers was positioned on the utensil. Then he scooped up a spoonful of the porridge. “See?”

Eren nodded and Armin placed the spoon back down. “Now you try,” he encouraged.

It took a few attempts before Eren’s fingers managed to close over the spoon and hold it steady without dropping it, and a few more tries before he was able to successfully dip the spoon into the porridge and get the food to his mouth, but after his first bite, his nearly forgotten muscle memory seemed to kick in and he all but devoured the remainder of the porridge.

Armin watched him eat in silence, taking mental notes about things he wanted to write down later while also feeling a twinge of guilt over how hungry Eren was. It had been two days since Armin had discovered him in the lab, and nearly twenty-four hours since he had brought him back to his quarters, and in that time, Eren had eaten nothing. He hadn’t asked for food—hadn’t really spoken much at all, truth be told, and Armin had been so shocked by the success of the vaccine that he hadn’t even thought to ask sooner about food.

_The first successful turning of a titan back to a human and I am doing nothing to aid his recovery. I’m acting like a passive observer instead of a doctor taking responsibility for his patient. Hanji would be so disappointed._

“Thank you.”

The quietly spoken words pulled Armin out of his guilty thoughts. “For what?”

Eren blinked at him. “For the food.”

Armin exhaled. “You’re welcome, Eren.”

Eren flinched at the sound of his name, like a pained reflex.

It was an unexpected reaction, and it roused Armin's worry. “Do you want me to call you something else?” He asked, concerned.

“No.” Eren took a breath and then released it slowly. “It’s just that I…I don’t…feel like I deserve it anymore. My name. Eren was someone I used to be…before…” He looked up at Armin, his green eyes haunted in a way that Armin was becoming familiar with. “Eren wasn’t a monster.”

 _Oh._ “Neither are you,” Armin said, his voice soft but firm. “You aren’t a titan anymore. You _are_ Eren.”

The other man’s brows furrowed. “Then why do I have more titan memories than human ones? I remember everything that happened since I turned. _Everything._ ” He shuddered. “But my human memories are all foggy. I couldn’t even remember how to use a spoon.”

Armin pursed his lips. “Only at first,” he countered. “Your human memories may be foggy, but that’s only because they’re less recent than your…other memories.” He paused, gauging the other man’s expression before continuing. “You said that you remembered everything that happened since you were turned,” he chanced, and when Eren’s face remained impassive, Armin ventured on. “Would you be open to discussing those memories? You are the first human to transition back and your experience could shed a lot of light on titan physiology and thought processes. It could ultimately help us understand the nature of titans much more so than we do now.”

Eren slumped back in his chair, his shoulders drooping as his lips twisted unhappily. “They’re not pleasant memories,” he mumbled. His brow creased with pain. “I did horrible things. I killed people.” He swallowed hard and then, after taking a few deep breaths, he sat up a little taller, seeming to collect himself a bit. “Do you really...I mean...do you think my memories can help other—others like me?” He asked finally.

Armin nodded with conviction. “I know it.”

Eren let out a breath. “Okay,” he said, a flicker of determination beginning to overshadow the trauma in his green eyes. "I guess I can try, then. If you really think it will make a difference."

"It will make a huge difference. I also think it will help you," Armin added. "I'm not saying it won't be difficult, but I think that sharing your story and talking about what happened may have a cleansing effect. Keeping all of those negatives memories bottled up inside won't help you move forward. Talking about them might."

Eren looked like he desperately wanted to believe that, but he didn't agree outright, and Armin could tell that the former titan's recovery would be long and difficult. Even without knowing the details, he could see how torn up Eren was by the things he'd done, and he knew that reliving those things wouldn't be easy.

But healing was a process, and pain was often the first step.

"We could start now, if you feel up to it," Armin suggested in the wake of Eren's silence.

"Now?" The word was a panicked gasp.

"Or we could wait." The last thing he wanted was for Eren to feel pressured into talking.

But the other man surprised him. "No...now is okay," Eren said. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “So, um, where do you want me to start?”

Armin felt a warm sort of admiration for Eren’s courage. Whatever else he was or may have been, it was obvious that he was a fighter, and that was a trait that Armin respected.

He quickly walked over to his desk at the far end of the room and retrieved a notebook and pen. Once he sat back down across from Eren, he opened to a blank page and looked up.

“Well,” he said. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

 

**

Levi blinked his eyes open slowly, his vision sharpening right alongside the pain. Every inch of his body ached and hurt beneath the scratchy blanket resting atop him, and he winced as he pushed himself up into a seated position on the cot, his arms shaking.

Mikasa was sitting across from him on the floor, and though he could plainly see the disapproval on her face, she didn’t say anything.

He licked his lips, swallowing at the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth. “Is there any water?” His voice was no more than a rasp of sandpaper.

Mikasa nodded and disappeared into another room, coming back a moment later with a half-full bottle.

He tried to take it from her, but the second his fingers tried to close around its surface the bottle slipped out of his hand.

Mikasa caught it before it reached the floor and unscrewed the cap herself. She was still for a moment and then she brought the bottle to his lips.

Levi felt his gut twist in humiliation, but he didn’t refuse her help. At least she hadn’t asked first—words would have made it worse.

Mikasa was careful and attentive, letting him take a few weak sips and never pouring too much water into his mouth at once. He was so enervated that it took a few long, slow minutes to get through the bottle, but he drank it all.

It took all the energy he had left not to collapse back down on the pallet when he was finished.

Mikasa placed the empty bottle aside and sat back on her heels. “There isn’t much food left, but—”

Levi shook his head. “Can’t eat,” he mumbled. “Not yet.”

It was Mikasa’s silence that finally made him glance over at her.

Her hands were balled into fists on her lap and she was frowning down at them, her anxiety nearly palpable.

“Oi,” he rattled. “What’s wrong?”

She raised her eyes to his. “You,” she answered. “ _You’re_ wrong, and I don’t know how to help you.” She curled in on herself. “If you were a vampire, I would just give you blood, but you’re…you’re _human_ and I have no idea how to heal you. I’ve never felt so helpless or so…so useless.”

_Useless?_

Fucking hell. The vampire had saved his life, for fuck’s safe. “Useless my ass,” he said, coughing. When the short fit subsided, he added, “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”

Mikasa ignored his words, turning to a different argument. “I _am_ useless,” she insisted. “If Jillian or someone with more knowledge of human injuries were here, you would be much better off. A human would know what to do.”

Levi nearly blurted out that he didn’t _want_ anyone else around playing nursemaid to him, but he held back. “It wouldn’t make any difference, Mikasa.” He sighed, deciding to be honest with her. “I’m in bad shape. By rights, I should probably be titan meat. But I’m not, thanks to you, and now it’s just going to take some time. Humans don’t heal as quickly as vampires do.”

He wrapped the scratchy blanket tighter around himself, his gaze shifting to the view beyond the solitary window. It had stopped snowing, but the blanket of white on the ground looked deep, and the sunlight was weak and dwindling, casting long shadows of grey down from the bare tree branches.

 _Shit._ “How long was I out?” He asked.

“Almost all day.”

An entire day, gone and wasted. Angry, Levi tried to stand, only to be rewarded by pain so intense that he saw spots behind his eyes. He fell with a gasp, Mikasa’s arms the only thing that prevented him from landing on his ass.

“Levi…” She cautioned, gently easing him back down to the pallet.

“I know,” he mumbled. “Clearly I’m not going anywhere.” He choked out a frustrated exhale. “Fuck. I can’t do this. Not knowing is worse than knowing the worst.”

Mikasa stared at him, blinking in confusion.

Levi sagged on the pallet. “I have no idea what happened to the others,” he clarified. “For all I know, everyone is dead.”

"Dead? Why would you..." Mikasa’s hand flew to her mouth, though it didn’t quite stifle her gasp. “ _Oh_. Levi, I...I’m so sorry,” she said, the words muffled. She dropped her hand to her lap, and Levi watched as it clenched into a fist. “I was so distracted by your condition that I forgot to tell you.”

His limbs might have been lethargic, but his attention was as sharp as a razor blade. “Tell me what?”

“I found the others before I found you. They were fighting, and they were winning. Clio’s group had almost taken out all of the titans at the main camp, and when I found Ymir’s group, their situation was more or less the same…except for Ymir.”

Levi felt something worse than his physical pain begin to tear at his chest. He swallowed. “Is she dead?” He managed.

The hesitation before she answered told Levi everything he needed to know. “She wasn’t when I saw her, but she…” Mikasa’s expression fell. “I don’t think she could have survived. The others were tending to her, but she’d lost so much blood and her arm…it was…” Mikasa shook her head, her dark eyes full of compassion. “I’m sorry, Levi.”

He knew she meant it, but that didn’t lessen the impact of her words. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “And Jean?”

“I didn’t get as far as Jean’s group,” she answered. “Once Jillian told me I wasn’t needed in Ymir’s group, I came after you.”

Levi said nothing. Ymir and Jean, his trainees, his protégés. His responsibilities. Both possibly – probably – dead.

He’d never had a family, never had children of his own, but he imagined that the loss he felt at the moment was pretty damn comparable to how a parent felt at the loss of their child.

Ymir and Jean might not have been his blood, but hell, they were still his kids.

And now at least one of them was gone, just like everyone else he’d ever cared about.

It was a good thing he’d never had kids of his own; only a shitty father would outlive all his children.

A gentle touch stirred him, and Levi looked down to see Mikasa’s hand resting on top of his.

“A lot of your people are still alive,” she said softly, her dark eyes brimming with compassion. “And Jean could easily be one of them. Don’t give up hope. Not now. Not when we’ve been through so much.”

Part of him wanted to argue, to tell her that hope was just denial of reality, but he didn’t. He could feel her fervor in the press of her skin on his, almost like she was kinetically passing her hope to him.

It was strange, and probably all in his head, but it made him feel…better.

It made him want to pull her closer, to gain more of that feeling, and as he looked into her eyes, he sensed that Mikasa would let him.

Still, he pulled his hand away. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You didn’t save my ass for nothing. I’m not giving up.” _Not yet._

Mikasa seemed satisfied with his answer. “You should get some more rest,” she suggested, changing the subject.

The idea had a drug-like effect, her words cuing his exhaustion. “I’ve never slept this much in my life,” he muttered, but he lay down all the same, stretching out on the pallet and grimacing as even that amount of minimal motion set his nerves ablaze in pain.

As the throbbing and aching tapered off, something new occurred to him.

“Mikasa,” he called, turning just his head.

She didn’t say anything, just waited expectantly.

“Where did you sleep last night?” He asked.

The question seemed to catch her off guard. “I…stayed up most of the night,” she said. “To keep an eye on you. I did sleep a little, though.”

His lips quirked up at her transparent evasion. “Where?” He pressed. He knew full well that this particular bunker wasn’t exactly stocked—and that was before the group had stripped it of supplies.

Mikasa looked down at her lap, her black hair slipping over her shoulders and covering most of her face. “Against the wall,” she admitted.

Levi would have laughed if his ribs didn’t hurt so fucking much. “For a vampire, you play the martyr act very well,” he quipped.

Mikasa glanced up at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “What?” She asked blankly.

He sighed. “Just share the pallet with me,” he said. “There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

She went back to staring at her lap. “It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need to—”

“Mikasa.”

She fell silent.

“Get on the damn mattress and shut up.”

“But—”

“But nothing. If you argue, I’ll get up and physically move you, which will probably reopen half of my wounds. It won’t exactly be good for my recovery.”

Mikasa’s expression darkened and she muttered something that sounded a lot like _you couldn’t move me even on your best day,_ but she moved around to the far side of the pallet and sat down, keeping as much space between them as possible.

“Was that so hard?” He teased, his voice already thick with sleep.

Her response was a muted growl. “One more word and you can add fresh fang marks to your list of wounds,” she threatened.

Levi felt his lips tug up wryly.

 _I wouldn’t mind those, Mikasa,_ he thought, and then he heard her sharp intake of breath, making him wonder if, in his delirium, he’d accidentally spoken aloud.

But then sleep overtook him and he let the thought slip away.

 

**

It was late, long past when most civilians turned in for the night, but the lateness of the hour mattered little to Erwin. Even if they had not arranged a meeting, chances were good that he would have been awake anyhow, seeing to some other business.

Historia reached his quarters first, and Erwin steered her into his office, pouring her a cup of green tea before ushering her into one of the sitting chairs. Ever since the dismantling of the Legion, he’d lost the expansive headquarters he’d once had, but his private quarters were still larger than most, and Erwin was fortunate enough to have an adjoining office. It was a luxury not shared by many other officials—especially retired officials.

Erwin poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip, silently appraising the young girl across from him. She looked dignified as always, poised, and yet there were bags under her bright blue eyes that hadn’t been there before, a sure sign that the crackdowns as of late were wearing her down more than she let on.

He took another lingering sip and then set his cup aside. “Are you holding up all right?” He asked.

The blonde nodded, gracing him with a small smile. “Well enough,” she insisted.

Erwin didn’t push the issue. “Do you have any new information?” He asked, raising a thick eyebrow.

Historia’s smile disappeared. “No,” she admitted with a sigh. “I did manage to intercept one letter before it was dispatched to Sina, but it didn’t contain any useful information. And I think my father knows that I’m snooping,” she added. “He hasn’t invited me to a cabinet meeting in two weeks and he all but avoids me, even when we’re alone.”

“Do his guards ignore you as well?”

Historia understood what he was getting at immediately. “I’m not being followed or watched,” she assured him. “The members of our house guard are all too busy making sure I don’t see or hear anything I shouldn’t to go on the offensive.”

“So far,” Erwin mused gravely.

“Yes,” Historia agreed. “So far.”

A knock on the outer door interrupted any further conversation. Erwin stood and strode out of the office, making his way to the front entrance of his quarters. He was almost certain it was Armin, but because of the precarious climate as of late, he had to make sure.

“I am not entertaining visitors at this hour,” he said through the door. “Come back tomorrow.”

There was a pause, and then, tentatively, “No one entertains at this hour, but business never waits.”

Satisfied, Erwin unbolted the door and stepped aside, letting a nervous-looking Armin Arlert in.

“Is Historia here already?” The younger man asked.

Erwin nodded as he shut the door. “In my office.”

Armin wasted no time. “We need to procure another titan,” he said as he walked into the adjoining room and took a seat. “As soon as possible.”

He didn’t greet Historia, which was strange given how polite Armin usually was, but the tension in his voice made it clear that he was not quite himself.

Historia leaned forward in her chair. “What happened to the titan we already have?”

“Nothing,” Armin answered quickly. “Eren is doing well—incredibly well. Because of him, I now know much more about titan nature. He’s provided invaluable information. But he's also told me many troubling things.” The doctor paused, gathering himself. “I’ll share all my notes with both of you later,” he said, “but right now, we need to capture another titan. And not just any titan.”

Erwin leaned back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “Not just _any_ titan?” He prompted.

“No. Eren told me that there is a titan hierarchy,” Armin explained. “Eren was a lower level, lesser functioning titan, but not all titans are that way. Apparently there is more variation that we ever dreamed possible. Eren told me that some titans are rabid, driven just by pure instinct and bloodlust—the other titans refer them to as mongrels. Eren was part of the next branch up, so to speak; he was part of the horde. He retained some of his human reasoning and coordination, but not speech, and his emotions were instinct-driven rather than based on higher cognitive reasoning. He said that most titans fall into this category and the mongrel category.

“But then there are other titans—the more dangerous titans. They are capable of speech, as well as human thought and reasoning. Eren said that they are called superiors because of their elevated intelligence and strength, and that they are the captains and commanders that serve the titan force.” Armin paused. “And then there are the elite titans.”

Erwin felt a tremor of unease go through him. “What did Eren say about the elite?”

“That they are the equivalent of our Reapers, but faster and stronger. Eren said that he’d only ever seen an elite on one occasion, but that it was enough to convince him that elites are the most dangerous creatures in the world.”

Historia’s face had gone pale. “How many elites are there?” She asked.

The young doctor shook his head. “I asked that same question. Eren doesn’t know.”

Historia’s perturbed expression only deepened. “Is that why you want to capture another titan? To find out of if they know more?”

“Yes, but not to find out more about the elites.” Armin frowned gravely. “There are even more troubling questions that need answers.” His blue eyes met Erwin’s. “Eren overheard a name during his time with the titan army.”

“Which name?” Erwin asked.

“Zacklay.”

A stunned silence fell over the room.

_Zacklay?_

The possible implications of that began to flicker through Erwin’s mind at lightning speed.

None were good.

He did not, however, want to project his own musings onto the others in the room, so he hid his own suspicions and deferred to the younger man. “What do you think it means, Armin?”

“I think it confirms what Dex has been trying to prove for years,” Armin answered. “That there are ties between the titans and our esteemed generals.”

“Perhaps,” Historia interjected, “but in what context did Eren hear Zacklay’s name mentioned? The titans may have been discussing their enemies; in that case, it would make sense for the names of high ranking officials to come up.”

It was a sound point, but Armin shot it down with a shake of his head. “That isn’t the way Eren described it. He said that one of the superior titans was discussing Zacklay like we would an old friend—not with rancor or hate, but with familiarity.”

Finally, Erwin chose to speak. “But Eren’s account alone isn’t enough to flesh out the truth,” he surmised. “To be certain of anything, we need more than one perspective, and hopefully one that sheds a closer view on the upper ranks of the titans.”

Armin nodded. “Yes, which brings me to my initial point: we need to procure another titan subject. If we can turn another titan back into a human, we may be able to fill in the missing pieces.”

“But not just any titan,” Erwin mused, repeating Armin's earlier statement as he sensed where the young doctor’s train of thought was heading.

The shorter blond man sighed. “Exactly,” he replied. “Not just any titan. We need a higher up—one that would have had more responsibility and be more informed about larger scale titan affairs. Based on what Eren said, I don’t think we have any chance of catching an elite, but a superior…” He trailed off.

“Armin, it's a good idea, but I just...I don't think we could accomplish something like that," Historia said. "We don't know where to find a superior or how to subdue one, so how exactly would we go about capturing one?” Her delicate brows drew into a furrow. “And those questions aside, there are other problems to consider. The Police, for example. And even if we somehow manage to elude the Police, we can’t very well orchestrate a mission outside the walls without manpower, and we don’t have any soldiers at our disposal. I don’t see how it could be possible, Armin.”

Erwin stood up. “I do,” he said. He’d already mulled the problem over in his head, and there was only one possible course of action. “We have to convince Commander Ramirez to help us.”

Historia nearly choked on the sip of tea she was taking. She set her cup down forcefully. “You cannot seriously be entertaining the idea of telling Kai what we’ve been up to,” she stated, her tone full of bewilderment.

“We have to entertain that idea,” Armin murmured unhappily. “I can’t see how we can move forward without her help.”

Historia stood up, fuming. “Are you both daft?” She exclaimed. “Kai has made it very clear time and again that she does not support either of you in the least.” She rounded on Armin. “And have you forgotten that the last time you spoke with her she very nearly threw you out of her headquarters? Kai is a loose cannon. We can’t trust her, and even if we could, she still wouldn’t listen.”

“You’re right,” Erwin cut in when Historia paused to take a breath. “Kai won’t listen. But she won’t have to; all she’ll have to do is see.”

Armin’s eyes widened. “You want me to show her what we’ve been up to?” He guessed. “As in show Eren to her?”

Erwin nodded. “Yes,” he said simply, and then he held up a hand before either of his comrades could say a word. “It is true that Commander Ramirez has not supported us in the past, and it is true that she is hotheaded and stubborn, but she is not a fool; if she sees physical proof that your vaccine works and if Eren tells her what he told you, I believe she will come around.”

Historia looked far from convinced. “And if she doesn’t?”

It was a possibility Erwin didn’t want to consider. “She will,” he replied firmly. _She has to_. For all their differences and disagreements, Erwin would not want to start a war with Kai or ask Dex to deal with her. She was a good commander who cared about her men, and Erwin respected her.

“I’ll set up the meeting,” he said to Armin.

The doctor didn’t argue. “All right,” he acquiesced. “What do we tell Dex?”

Erwin pursed his lips. Dex cared nothing for Kai and would not want to involve her in any way. And even if it were somehow possible to convince Dex that involving Kai would bring about the best outcome, Erwin wasn’t certain that Dex wouldn’t _see_ to her once the mission was completed. Kai was a ‘straight-laced sycophant’, in Dex’s opinion, and he would no doubt view her as a loose end he needed to tie up.

Which Erwin would never allow. He'd crossed many lines both during and before his tenure as commander for the benefit of the greater good, but he still had limits, still had lines he refused to cross. But Dex...

Dex didn't believe in the sanctity of anything aside from his own end goals. It was one of the many things that made him effective, but it also made him dangerous, ruthless.

“We tell him nothing for now,” Erwin decided. “We’ll do this as cleanly and covertly as possible. Understood?”

It wasn’t often that Erwin pulled rank anymore, and in reality, he didn’t really have any sway over Armin or Historia. However, the skin of a feared and respected commander wasn’t a skin shed so easily, and his tone and stance had the desired effect: both blondes nodded in mute agreement.

“Good,” Erwin said, his tone softening. “Thank you both for coming. I’ll let you know when I have a time and place for the meeting with Commander Ramirez. For now, I think it would be best for you both to return to your respective quarters.”

No one said much more after that, and Erwin ushered the two of them to the door. Once they were both gone, he closed it and sagged against it, releasing a weary sigh.

So much new information, and all of it bad.

 _"Storm’s coming_ ," Mike had told him once, so long ago, on that idyllic day before the titan outbreak had changed the world forever. _Storm's coming,_ he'd foreseen, and the storm _had_ come.

What Erwin wondered now, as he pressed his forehead against the solid, cool bulk of his door, was whether the storm would ever end.

 

**

Levi dreamed of Jocelyn…her smile, her laughter, the feel of her body pressed close to his…

When he roused himself enough to open his eyes, there _was_ someone pressed close to him, but it wasn’t Jocelyn.

Somehow, in their sleep, he and Mikasa had become a tangle of limbs. They were facing each other, and her face was pressed against his bandaged chest, her hair tickling his skin the same way her cool breath did every time she exhaled. They were pressed together lower down, too, Levi realized after a moment, one of her legs sandwiched between his, one of her arms around his torso, one of his arms slung across her back. It was casual, comfortable, familiar, and Levi was reluctant to move—and not only because he didn’t want to wake her.

How long had it been since he’d held someone in his arms like this, since he’d had someone in bed with him?

He’d forgotten how good it could feel.

Mikasa shifted slightly in her sleep, moving closer, burrowing against him a little more in _just_ the right way.

_Fuck._

Levi groaned.

The flare of pain he felt with her body pressing against his wounds paled in comparison to the flare of arousal that flooded his limbs at having her so near.

Almost unconsciously, he reached up, his fingertips inching towards the tendrils of hair half-covering her face, seeking to brush them away.

But then Mikasa opened her eyes, and Levi froze. Her gaze was unfocused, hazy, her eyelids still droopy with sleep, but as her vision came into focus her eyes widened and she gasped in surprise, instantly scooting away from of him.

“I’m sorry,” she began hastily, her cheeks burning. “I don’t know when I—”

Levi caught her wrist as she began to sit up, his grip loose but firm enough to make her pause. “Don’t go,” he murmured. The piteousness of that request should have made him cringe in embarrassment, but for some reason it didn't.

Mikasa's lips parted, but she otherwise stayed completely still.

Levi watched her, enjoying the sense of quiet he felt, in the room and in his head.

The peace of that moment gave him the clarity he needed to ask the question she’d only partially answered two days before. “Mikasa,” he began, holding her dark gaze. “Why did you come back?”

He felt her arm tremor beneath his hand. “I already told you why I—”

He cut her off. “No.” He could sense the walls going up around her and he didn’t want that. He wanted the truth. The _whole_ truth. “You told me part of the reason, but you’re holding back. I can tell.” He searched her eyes. “Tell me the real reason. Please.”

She pulled out of his grip, but this time Levi let her go since he sensed that she wasn’t going to run away.

His instincts were right; Mikasa sat up and crossed her legs, resting her hands in her lap and physically regrouping. Then she took a breath, her shoulders moving as she inhaled and exhaled. “Do you remember when I asked you if something had changed after the second time I fed on you?”

Levi remembered. He remembered it with perfect clarity, right down to the feel of her hips twitching beneath his fingers. He swallowed, nodded.

“Well, I lied when I said nothing was different. We…we formed a blood bond.”

Even though Levi had no idea what the hell a blood bond was, he could tell, simply by her grave tone, that it was important. Big.

“Blood bonds are extremely rare,” she went on, “and usually formed between two vampires. Our situation is almost unheard of.” She paused. “Our blood bond was the reason I was able to track you so quickly. It was also the reason I knew you were in trouble. I could sense it, just like I can feel your emotions. Sometimes, I can even hear your thoughts when they’re strong enough,” she added, her voice dwindling to a mumble.

Levi said nothing. He wasn’t one to believe in superstitious mumbo jumbo – Kenny had knocked any sense of spirituality out of him at an early age – so he was somewhat surprised to find that he believed Mikasa completely. He’d never been able to hear her thoughts, but he certainly felt… _connected_ to her on a deeper level, could feel and understand and sense her in a way that he hadn’t been able to before.

But there was one detail that eluded him. “You said that blood bonds are extremely rare,” he echoed. “Define 'extremely'.”

"There is only one other known instance of a blood bond being formed between a vampire and a human."

Levi could have sworn his heart temporarily stopped beating. "So how the hell did we manage to become the second pair?" He asked, not even attempting to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Mikasa fidgeted, her fingers running nervously over the hem of her shirt. “The source varies,” she said, “but usually it…it’s love.”

Levi blanched.

 _Love? No way in hell,_ came the instant mental rebuttal. _W_ _e hated each other._

But that was bullshit. They may have hated each other in the beginning, but that hatred had long ago dissipated, evolved. By that cold night when she’d fed on him the second time…

An image of Mikasa, nervously leaning in, eyes and lips shining with want, appeared in his head, as did the sensory memory of the way her fangs had gently pierced his skin…

 _Fuck_.

No, he definitely hadn’t hated her anymore.

He hadn’t loved her, either.

Had he?

 _Did_ he?

Grimacing with effort, Levi pushed himself up to a seated position, mimicking Mikasa’s position.

Sitting felt good—solid and real, a nice contrast to how surreal everything else felt. Never, not in a million fucking years, would he ever have imagined having this conversation with a vampire. Never. And yet here he was, and here she was.

And he had to know.

“Mikasa,” he asked slowly, softly, “do you…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he thought it, he felt it, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mikasa had heard the question in its entirety.

Her gaze dropped, the black fringe of her lashes concealing whatever truth he could have gleaned from her eyes. “It wouldn’t make any difference either way,” she murmured at length. “We are what we are—vampire and human. There would be no future for us even if those feelings were there.” She paused, her lips tightening just a fraction, just enough that Levi caught it. “Besides,” she added, “your heart belongs to another.”

Levi regarded her quietly. He wished she would look at him, but he understood her reservation. On the battlefield, she was confident, decisive. Here, with no threatening distractions, her vulnerability was palpable.

They were very, very much alike.

“I do love Jocelyn,” he affirmed softly. “I always will. But Jocelyn is…gone.” His voice caught on the last word, that final syllable sticking in his throat. Seven years—seven fucking _years_ and it still wasn’t easy to admit that Jocelyn was lost to him. Dead and buried and only alive in his memories.

_Some wounds never heal._

He’d said that to Petra that night by the campfire, a night that seemed like a lifetime ago, when he and Mikasa had been linked only by blackmail and Petra had been…

He shoved the thought away abruptly, but its implication lingered in his mind like a bitter aftertaste.

Everything had changed. Petra was gone now, Jocelyn was gone, but Mikasa…

Mikasa was flesh and blood. She was alive. She was a vampire he trusted, an enemy turned confidante and comrade. She’d been his savior on more than one occasion, and, somewhere along the way, she’d become one of them. He’d missed her when she’d left—missed her long before he’d admitted it to himself, and he was glad she had returned. He needed her, relied on her – and, he admitted as his eyes quickly flickered over the slope of her shoulders and the graceful curve of her waist and down to the slight flare of her hips – he wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone since Jocelyn.

Articulating any of those small epiphanies eddying through his brain was next to impossible, but he owed it to Mikasa to try. She looked so downcast, so forlorn sitting there across from him, and it was his fault.

“I care about you, Mikasa,” he said finally. He didn't know if he loved her, and he sure as shit wasn't in the right mental state to go figuring that out at the moment, but he knew one thing for certain, and he said as much. “And I feel this…this bond between us, too. And I’m glad it’s there.”

 _That_ made her look up. “You are?” She asked, her porcelain brow crinkling in disbelief.

“I am,” he answered, nodding, feeling the truth of it settle in his very marrow. “You’ve given me strength, Mikasa,” he went on, feeling uncharacteristically emboldened. “Alone, I always doubted our odds of making it to Rose, but with you, I…it seems possible.”

Mikasa’s lips tilted up sweetly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she argued. “Under your leadership, the group always had a good chance of making it to Rose, despite the odds.”

“Half of them are dead.”

“And half are still alive.”

“Not quite half,” he mumbled bitterly.

Mikasa reached out and squeezed one of his hands. “Levi,” she chided. “Don’t.”

He obliged her, falling silent for a while. At some point, he realized that he was idly brushing his thumb across her knuckles, gently caressing the smooth skin of her hand, and a new thought occurred to him.

“Are you staying?” He asked as casually as he could manage.

He felt her hand flinch beneath his touch as the rest of her body stiffened. “I was planning to,” she replied, her tone full of wariness, “but if you don’t want—”

Levi tightened his grip on her hand. “I want you to,” he answered firmly.

He felt more than heard her exhale. “Oh,” she said softly. “Good.” He could almost hear a hint of a smile in her tone, but it was gone when she spoke again.

“What happens when we get to Rose?”

That was a question he didn’t have an answer to. “I don’t know,” he admitted. Soldiers in all three fortresses had a standing kill-on-sight order in regards to vampires and titans, but maybe, since Mikasa was traveling with him, the rules would be slightly different.

“It won’t be easy, but if we make it as far as Rose, I’ll vouch for you. I have an old friend there who will listen, and if he hears how you basically saved all of our asses time and again, I think he’ll speak on your behalf too.”

Mikasa’s eyebrows rose. “He must be quite an important friend.”

“He’s an idealistic bastard, but he’s also a military commander. And a good man. I trust him.”

“Then I will, too,” Mikasa said.

Levi didn’t say anything else. Even with Erwin’s support, he knew that seeking amnesty and asylum for a vampire would be a monumental struggle, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. He couldn’t. That was a problem for a day three hundred miles west of where they were, after they were back with the others and after they’d faced and survived whatever trials still lay ahead of them.

_No use worrying about tomorrow’s shit since tomorrow ain’t a certainty. Survive today and then deal with the next today._

That was one piece of Kenny’s unsolicited advice that Levi happened agreed with. With the constant dangers, it made sense to live one day at a time.

He would find a way to solve the Rose problem when, or rather _if_ , they made it there. But for now…

His stomach rumbled painfully. “You said there wasn’t much food left?” He asked, dealing with the most present problem.

Mikasa pulled her hand from his grasp and stood up. “No, but there’s a few dried fruit stuffs left in the other room. I’ll get them for you.”

She was gone and back in the blink of an eye, and Levi was pleasantly surprised to discover that his appetite had returned. He finished off the three small servings she’d brought him in record time.

Mikasa looked simultaneously pleased and worried as she watched him, but the latter emotion was all he could see swimming in her eyes by the time he was done.

“You need more,” she observed grimly, her lips pulling down in a frown. She sighed. “I’m going to go out and see what else I can find,” she said. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Levi scoffed with more bravado than he felt. “ _Tch_. I’m a Reaper. I’m sure I’ll manage, even if I have to freshen some of these bandages without my doting nursemaid.”

His sarcasm didn’t mollify her, but it did seem to draw out a spark of anger in her dark eyes, which was a nice departure from the worry she’d been radiating. “Reaper or not,” she responded tightly, “you shouldn’t be so cavalier. You almost died two days ago and you’re still barely able to move. If something happens while I’m gone—”

“I’ll manage,” he insisted again, this time without the sarcasm. “But at this point, food is more important. So go,” he added more gently. “I’ll be all right.”

Mikasa’s lips pressed together. “I won’t be long,” she promised.

Levi watched her leave, feeling a strange tug of loss at her departure. He wasn’t, however, worried about her. If anyone could handle herself – even alone in a titan-infested wilderness – it was Mikasa.

Shit—his emotions might have been the equivalent of scrambled eggs, but maybe he _was_ a little in love with her.

He wondered what Kenny would’ve said about that.

More accurately, he wondered how long it would’ve taken for Kenny to bash his brains in for even entertaining that possibility.

It didn’t matter now, of course. It didn’t matter at all, truth be told. Sorting out the jumble of his feelings was a problem also for some vague day in the future. For now, he needed to work on getting his strength back.

Taking a breath, Levi forced himself to his feet.

To no avail.

He fell immediately, landing hard on his hands and knees, the pain ricocheting out from his palms and kneecaps with such force that he gasped.

 _Come on,_ he urged himself. _Get up._

Gritting his teeth, he once more pushed himself up. His legs began to wobble again and his head reeled with vertigo, but he reached out and used the wall to steady himself, taking one breath and then another and then another until he felt his equilibrium slowly start to return.

He let go of the wall and this time, he didn’t fall. _Guess that’s progress,_ he mused, and then he took a step forward.

His whole body shook, but he remained standing, and inch by inch, step by step, he crossed the room. Then he turned around and did it again. By the time he collapsed back down on the pallet, he was drenched in sweat and breathing hard.

And he was thirsty.

Fuck.

Well, external motivation was a good thing, he supposed. He waited until his heart rate settled and his breathing was back under control, and then, the goal of water in mind, he stood up once more.

This time, his legs stayed steady.

 

**

Armin hadn’t seen Kai since the time he’d confronted her about changing her council vote all those weeks ago, but even so, he wasn’t sure that enough time had passed for her to cool off. She’d been livid when he’d brought up her family, and Kai had a reputation for holding grudges.

Which was why, when he heard three sharp raps against his front door a little before midnight, Armin stiffened.

 _We need her,_ he told himself as he forced his feet to move. _We need her on our side._

It was sound logic, but he still had to take a deep breath before he unbolted the door and turned the knob.

“Commander,” he greeted quietly with a nod of his head.

Kai was dressed in her usual austere ensemble of all black, and her expression matched. “Dr. Arlert,” she greeted coldly.

Armin stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. “Please,” he said, holding out his arm. “Make yourself at home.”

Kai strode past him and Armin shut the door, steeling himself for the coming encounter before he turned to face her.

Still, he managed a meek smile when he caught her eye. “Would you like some coffee?” He asked, trying to ignore how out of place Kai looked standing in the middle of his kitchen. “Or tea, perhaps?”

She didn’t even give him the courtesy of a refusal. “What I would like,” she answered instead, “is to know why Erwin insisted that I meet with you here and at this hour.”

Armin groaned inwardly. _This is going to be an uphill battle._

Kai’s posture may have been nonchalant – shoulders back, arms at her sides – but it was clear from the tone of her voice and the curtness of her words that her figurative fists were up. She wasn’t in a mood to hear anything he had to say, and it made Armin nervous.

Not nervous enough to give up, however.

“He arranged this meeting because we’ve had a breakthrough,” he said.

Kai raised one of her full, curved brows. “What kind of breakthrough?” She asked, placing her hands akimbo.

Armin decided to sidle into a response instead of answering bluntly. “I know you’ve been against aiding our research regarding titans in the past,” he said, “but what would you say if I told you that we were no longer working on suppositions? That if you give us the help we need, we will be able to save many of the citizens we lost? That we have concrete proof that it is possible to reverse the effects of the vaccine?”

Kai was unmoved. “I would say show me the proof.”

This time, instead of forcing a smile, Armin had to hide one. “Okay,” he said, feeling a tinge of victory. Then, in a louder voice, he called, “Eren, please come here.”

It wasn’t often that Kai’s resting mien of displeasure could be affected, but the surprise on her face when Eren walked into the room a handful of seconds later was sincere. She looked him up and down, and Armin could see the gears turning in her head.

“Who…is this?” She asked at length.

Eren shuffled from foot to foot, looking incredibly uncomfortable beneath Kai’s scrutiny.

Armin gave him a reassuring smile. “This is Eren Jaeger. He was a Legion soldier who received the _Titan_ vaccine six years ago.”

Kai’s full lips parted in disbelief. “That isn’t possible,” she said, her brown eyes widening.

“Dr. Zoe had been working on a cure for years,” Armin went on. “And using her notes, I was able to finish it. The results speak for themselves.”

Kai’s gaze drifted back to Eren. “Is this true?” She asked him. “Were you a titan? Did Dr. Arlert turn you back?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Eren stammered, his gaze flitting from Kai to the floor. “Both of those things are true.”

"Can you prove that?"

Wordlessly, Eren pulled up the sleeve covering his left arm, showing off the unmistakable mark of the original vaccine.

“I see," Kai said finally. There was no longer any trace of skepticism in her voice. "And now that you're human again, do you still remember what it was like to _be_ a titan?”

Eren flinched. “All too well.” His tone was haunted, hushed.

Something shifted in Kai’s eyes, then, a softening that Armin had never seen before. “I…can’t imagine what it must have been like to go through that,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Eren shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back of his head. “It’s okay,” he responded. “I mean, it’s not, but…” He exhaled. “If I can make up for it, for what I…” He faltered, pain flashing across his face. “For what I did while I was…like _that_ ,” he carried on, “then I want to. I want to help.”

Kai nodded, her hands slipping back to her sides. "All right." She turned to Armin. “You have my attention, Dr. Arlert. Tell me what you want.”

Armin hoped the disbelief wasn’t showing on his face. “We need to capture another titan,” he confided. “In order to make sure the cure is viable, we have to test it on more than one recipient. We also need more information on the titans. Eren has provided some insight into titan affairs and the makeup of their forces – which I will share with you – but we need more. We cannot rely on his testimony alone if we wish to regain the upper hand. And in order to do all this,” he added, “we need soldiers. _Your_ soldiers. And your support.” He paused. “There is no way we can move forward without you, Commander.”

Kai was quiet for so long that Armin could feel the nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead. Finally, just when he was about to break the interminable silence, Kai spoke.

“I take it that you have no intention of going to the council with this.”

It was a statement, not a question, and a perceptive one at that. “That is correct,” Armin answered honestly. “Given Governor Reiss’ actions as of late, we decided it would be in our best interest to involve as few people as possible.”

Kai didn’t miss a beat. “ _We?”_ She echoed.

“Historia Reiss, Commander Erwin, and myself,” he answered. He said nothing of Dex.

Again, Kai nodded. “Very well. I do not condone clandestine activities, but I do recognize that this is a...unique circumstance and needs to be dealt with as such.” She rolled her shoulders back. “I will help you and give you the manpower you need to capture another titan. On one condition.”

The sense of victory that had bubbled up in the pit of Armin’s stomach fizzled out. “What is your condition?” He asked warily.

“When my team leaves Rose, Eren goes with them.”

Armin blanched. The thought of sending Eren back out into titan territory when he’d already endured so much trauma was unthinkable. He couldn’t agree to that. He wouldn’t. “I don’t think that’s—”

“I’ll go.”

Kai and Armin both stopped, looking over at the green-eyed former titan.

“Eren,” Armin began. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” the other man interjected. “It makes sense. I know the landscape. I know the routes the titans travel on. I know where the army bases are and where the units are camped. I know the places that are overrun with mongrels. I know where to go and where not to go. And I know how to find the kind of titan you need.”

Kai seemed pleased. “Then it’s settled,” she said. “I’ll organize and debrief my team and let you know when the mission will commence.” She headed for the door, but turned back, the unbraided half of her hair falling in waves behind her shoulder. “I want complete files on everything you’ve discovered and discussed concerning the titans.”

“Of course,” Armin assured her. “I will bring them by your headquarters tomorrow. I can’t risk making you your own copies, but you can peruse them at your leisure while I'm there.”

“Fine. Was there anything else, Dr. Arlert?”

It was the closest thing to an amenable question that she’d ever asked him. “No, Commander,” he replied. “Thank you—for believing us and for helping us.”

Kai’s stiff demeanor seemed to soften slightly. “I know we have our differences, Dr. Arlert, but what you’ve done here is incredible. I know I’ve stood against you in the past, but that is because I refuse to risk my soldiers’ lives on foolish errands. This is not a foolish errand. If there is even the slightest chance that these results can be duplicated and that we can save some of the citizens we lost, it is worth the risk.”

Armin bit his tongue, not wanting to say that sending men to Maria to track down potential survivors was hardly a fool’s errand. It wasn’t the time or place, and Kai had just agreed to help them; the last thing he needed to do was stir her anger. So instead he politely inclined his head. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Kai nodded at him. “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you and your files tomorrow.” Then she briefly nodded to Eren. “I’ll be in touch soon.” She paused. “Welcome back,” she added, and then she opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Armin let out the tense breath he’d been holding.

“Wow. She’s uh, a bit...” Eren trailed off, apparently unable to find a word to describe the Police commander. “Is she always like that?” He asked instead.

“At least in public,” Armin replied quietly. He eyed the other man carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay with going back out there? It was brave of you to volunteer, but you can still change your mind.”

Eren gave him a small smile. “Thanks for saying so, but I need to do this. I need to face what happened. I need to face what I was.”

There was something so genuine, so earnest, about Eren that Armin found himself believing what the former soldier was saying. “All right,” he yielded. “As long as you feel that way, then I’ll stand by your decision.”

Eren’s smile deepened, the warmth of it reaching his eyes in a way that made him seem younger—boyish, almost. “Thanks.” He colored slightly. “Uh…I know it’s late, but would you mind if I ate something? I’m really hungry.”

Armin chuckled. Out of all Eren’s dormant human traits, it was definitely his appetite that had woken up first. And it had woken up with a vengeance. “Sure,” he said, heading over to his pantry. It had been stocked a few days ago, but now its shelves were mostly bare. “I think there’s enough left here for me to make us some soup. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” came the embarrassed reply. “Sorry about, you know, eating all your food.”

“Don’t be,” Armin said as he placed his gathered ingredients on the counter. “You’re a walking miracle, Eren. I think the least I can do is spare you some food.”

In reply, Eren granted him another warm smile. “Can I help?” He asked.

Armin blinked. First Kai had agreed to help them, and now Eren was ready to try his hand at something new. It was shaping up to be quite the night. “Of course you can,” Armin answered, realizing that, for the first time in recent memory, he felt happy.

He also felt hopeful that maybe - just maybe - things were beginning to turn around for the better.

 

**

It was strange to think that a week had passed since she’d half-carried Levi into the bunker. In some ways it felt like they’d just gotten there, and in other ways it felt like they’d been there for a lifetime.

They’d fallen into an easy kind of routine: she would go out and scavenge for food in the mornings while Levi exercised and worked to get his strength back, they would spend their afternoons patrolling (she did it alone the first three days until Levi insisted he was well enough to go outside with her), and then they would curl up on their shared mattress in the evenings and fall asleep beside each other. Although they never fell asleep that way, more often than not they would wake up in each other’s arms, and the last two mornings Mikasa had been content to stay there. Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten used to the feeling of having him near.

It was a glimpse at another life—a quiet, domestic kind of life, and Mikasa half wished that it didn’t have to end, that they could just go on existing in the small bubble they’d created for themselves, far from danger and pain and judgment.

But it was time to leave.

She heard Levi return from the river, the sound of the bunker door opening rousing her from her daydream, and she finished securing the packs she’d been stocking. There hadn’t been much left in the bunker, but she’d found an assortment of basic provisions that could prove useful in their travels.

One of the floorboards squeaked as Levi entered the room she was in, and Mikasa zipped up the smaller pack and stood up, turning to hand it to him.

Except that he was closer than she was anticipating and she ended up smacking him in the chest with it.

Levi expelled a surprised gasp and Mikasa instinctively reached out, steadying him as her face began to burn. “Sorry,” she murmured, silently cursing her stupidity.

But Levi seemed amused, his lips curving wryly. “I didn’t realize you were so impatient to leave that you were ready to fling things at me.” He chuckled. “Warn me next time.”

Mikasa shouldered her own pack, willing the color to leave her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were standing so close,” she said lamely. “And I’m not impatient to leave.” The veracity of that statement cooled her embarrassment. She looked up at him, noting the humor glinting in his eyes and the way the ends of his hair were clumped together, still damp from his impromptu bath in the river. “If anything, I wish we could stay a little longer,” she added quietly.

An emotional change seeped into the atmosphere of the room. “Me too,” Levi said softly, his gaze sobering. “Being here…with you…it’s been a nice break.” His eyes flickered down to her lips, making Mikasa’s stomach twist into nervous knots.

She didn’t even realize she was leaning towards him until she heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Mikasa…”

She looked into his eyes. There was something burning there, something she recognized as hunger, but it wasn’t the same kind of hunger she was familiar with. It was something darker, headier, more…

She parted her lips, her fangs twitching.

And suddenly Levi’s hands were on either side of her neck, cupping her face, the rough pads of his fingers raising goosebumps on her delicate skin.

She sucked in a breath, her own hands coming to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

Levi groaned, the sound sending a shivering thrill down Mikasa’s spine. His grip tightened. So did hers.

She wanted…

_Touch me._

She thought it, felt it, radiated it, and she could feel Levi responding, could see a fissure begin to crack in his control...

But then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Levi's hands were gone and he was stepping away from her.

“We should go,” he said eventually.

Mikasa reeled, feeling unsteady on her feet.

What had happened? What had _almost_ happened?

“Levi?” She said tentatively, searching his eyes for some kind of explanation.

But she found none. His gaze was still dark, hungry, but his voice was under tight control. “We should go,” he repeated.

“But…”

“Mikasa.” His tone was huskier this time, more labored. “We can’t stay here,” he ground out, his jaw clenching. “We can’t waste any more time—no matter how tempting it is,” he added as he tore his gaze away from her, his voice dropping pitch.

Mikasa swallowed. She felt empty, similar to how she felt when she hadn’t fed in a long time and yet not. It was a different kind of emptiness, one that made her whole body ache.

Then again, she _hadn’t_ fed in a while; maybe it was nothing more than hunger.

And besides—Levi was right. They needed to leave. They had to find the rest of their group, had to return to the world and all of its responsibilities.

But the desire to ignore all that, to reach out to Levi and find out what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled away was immense.

And apparently she wasn’t alone in her struggle.

Levi was staring at her, the same conflict she was experiencing warring in his eyes. But the soldier in him was winning—she could see it in the way his posture straightened and in the hard set of his mouth. “We can’t,” he said. “Not now. When we make it to Rose...maybe then. But not now.”

Mikasa couldn’t argue with him. Levi was a leader, a soldier, a fighter. Of course the mission would come first. He wouldn’t be him if it didn’t.

And Mikasa loved him all the more for it.

“Later,” she agreed, not even knowing quite what she meant.

_Later._

As they stepped out into the snow beyond the bunker and left their quiet, simple shelter behind, the word lingered in her mind.

_Later._

She wondered if later would ever come, or if the promise of that word was, like their short time at the bunker, just a glimpse at a life she’d never have.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the update!


	17. Building Tensions

_"Never make the mistake of thinking that peace will last forever; no matter how strong or unshakeable it seems, peace is nothing more than a spinning top, and like all spinning tops, it is not sustainable. One day it will falter."_

\- Quote taken from a speech made by Commander Dot Pixis, later published in his posthumous biography

**

 

In the six years since they’d retreated inside of Fortress Rose, there had only been two times when Historia had woken up to an empty apartment. Usually her father stayed in until his afternoon meetings, or at the very least, left one or two of his bodyguards to keep watch over his precious possessions. But today, on this rare third occasion, Historia woke up alone. The Reiss’ shared, expansive family quarters was completely empty, and so she decided to make the most of it.

Historia put on her worn pair of slippers, cinched her robe more securely around her waist, and went into the kitchen. She prepared tea and toast and ate it at the table in the dining room, taking comfort in the fact that the only sounds were the slight crunches she made as she nibbled on her toast. When she was finished, she washed her dishes and then stood there by the sink, pursing her lips.

There was still no one in the apartment.

Perhaps she should make the most of the unexpected opportunity for more important business than a solitary breakfast.

Padding softly on her slippered feet, Historia made her way into her father’s study.

It was an unspoken rule that she was not allowed to go in here, and though she'd never been given explicit knowledge as to why, there had to be a reason. Her father had many secrets and he did a good job keeping them, even before he’d shut her out of his meetings and his private life.

Feeling like a burglar, Historia cautiously approached her father’s massive mahogany desk. There were a few papers scattered on its surface, and a stack of letters—some written in her father’s hand and others not, but as she scanned each one, nothing suspicious jumped out at her. It was all usual business and correspondence, all extremely legal.

Disappointed, Historia then began to go through his desk drawers. Again, she found nothing of consequence, just more of the same diplomatic documents. What surprised her most was the photograph of her mother she found stashed in one of the top drawers. It was old and faded, but it featured her mother and father, smiling at each other and looking very much in love.

Historia paused, brushing her fingers over the image of her parents. It was strange to think that her father had ever been capable of love, although this captured moment in time proved that he had been—at least when it came to her mother.

Historia felt a pang of loss, wishing, not for the first time, that her mother were still alive. Maybe, if she hadn’t gotten sick, everything would be different. Maybe she would have been able to prevent Rod Reiss from becoming the man he was now.

With a sigh, Historia closed the drawer and moved on.

At least, she tried to.

The next drawer wouldn’t open.

She jimmied it a little, wondering if it was simply stuck, but it didn’t budge. She bent down, and sure enough, found a small keyhole almost concealed beneath the lip of the desk.

Historia pursed her lips. She knew she’d have no luck locating a key. On top of being secretive, her father was paranoid; there was no way he would leave a key anywhere where someone else could happen upon it. He probably had it on his person.

Which meant that her only real option, other than to move on to another drawer, was to pick the lock.

Historia glanced towards the study door, listening and looking for any sign of company, but there was still only silence.

That made her decision an easy one.

She walked back into her bedroom and pulled two slim bobby pins from the top of her vanity and went back into the her father’s study, unbending the hairpins as she did.

Ymir had showed her how to do this once, but Historia had never tried it herself.

It was hard to find the pins in the lock and harder still to depress them. Ymir had made it look so easy, but it took Historia a good five minutes before she successfully picked the lock.

She exhaled, setting the bobby pins down on the desk as she slid the drawer open.

Inside was a single piece of small stationery, wrinkled from where it had clearly been rolled up to fit on the ankle of a raven. There was an ornate S on one corner.

_Sina._

Holding her breath, Historia gingerly picked up the letter and smoothed it out, her eyes widening as she read the single line scrawled on its textured surface.

 

_~Leave by 30-6-6. Use the tunnels. Tell no one. 24-52-89. Look for E. – D_

 

 She read it again, her eyes lingering on those few, meaningful words.

The first numbers clearly represented a date, but Historia couldn’t fathom a guess as to what the second string of numbers represented. And the other instructions…? Historia was completely baffled.

_What tunnels? And what is E? Who is D?_

More alarming than those unanswered questions, however, was the sound of a door opening in the apartment.

Panic flooded Historia’s veins, but she reacted instantly. She placed the letter back where she’d found it and closed the desk drawer, then swiped the bobby pins off of the desk and hurried towards the door.

Just as Valence, one of her father’s personal guards, stepped into the room, towering above her and blocking her escape.

She stopped just short of colliding into his chest.

The muscular man’s look of surprise slowly morphed into a smile. “Well, well. Look what I found sneaking around.”

Historia hoped he couldn’t hear the furious pounding of her heart. “I wasn’t sneaking around,” she said, keeping her chin raised in feigned confidence. “I came in here to search for a book.”

Valence cocked a heavy brow. “Which book?” He said, crossing his arms.

Historia named the first one that came to mind that she knew her father didn’t have. “The Wanderer’s Travel Log, Volume One.”

The bodyguard chuckled. “What made you think that your father would have some dead girl’s diary in his personal library?”

“It is _not_ a dead girl’s diary,” Historia responded heatedly. “The Wanderer recorded many useful things in her memoirs, including cultural and agricultural information. I had hoped to enrich my knowledge in the latter subject area.”

Valence stepped closer. “Is that so?” He said, leering down at her, his eyes landing on the gap in her robe.

Historia instinctively took a step back. “You forget yourself, Valence,” she reprimanded him, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “I do not think my father would appreciate the way you are looking at his only daughter.”

“Maybe not.” Valence shrugged, and before Historia could react, he lunged at her, grabbing her by the arms. Historia let out a shriek of dismay as he lifted her bodily into the air, turned her, and, still holding onto her, pressed her against the study door. “But I also don’t think he would appreciate his pretty little daughter snooping around where she doesn’t belong,” he growled.

His face was mere inches from hers, close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek as he spoke.

Historia turned her head to the side. “I wasn’t snooping!” She insisted, squirming in his grasp.

Valence’s hands slid up from her arms to her neck, pinning her to the door by the throat. “Liar,” he breathed, his close-set eyes radiating predatory threat. His fingers tightened. “Tell the truth or I’ll have to get a little rough with you.”

Historia wheezed, trying to suck air into her restricted windpipe. But she couldn’t. His grip was absolute, and spots began to dance in front of her eyes. Desperate, she dropped the bobby pins and clawed at his arms. “Please,” she gasped, the word barely audible.

“Mmm,” Valence rumbled. “I like hearing you beg, Historia.” He leaned forward, his lips tickling her ear. “Makes me wonder how much you’d beg in… _other_ situations.”

Historia renewed her struggle, fighting against him, but it was a lost cause. He was bigger and stronger, and her lungs were screaming from the prolonged starvation of oxygen. Her eyes fluttered shut.

And finally, Valence released her.

Historia collapsed to her hands and knees, coughing violently.

Above her, Valence threw his head back and laughed, and then he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up. “Ready for round two?” He teased darkly.

Historia shook her head and held up the arm he wasn’t grabbing, keeping him at bay. “No,” she rasped. “Please. I…I’ll tell you the truth.”

Again Valence laughed, and then with a sigh, he released her. “All right, little girl. Talk.”

Historia looked up at him. “I was l-looking for liquor,” she stammered, projecting all of the fear she felt into that sentence, hoping that it would make her lie sound believable.

Valence’s eyebrows rose towards his forehead. “Liquor?” He echoed, clearly shocked by her answer. “No one has liquor anymore. It’s illegal.”

“I know, but I-I thought my father might have confiscated some.”

“Well, if he has, he hasn’t decided to share.” The bodyguard appraised her slowly, a dangerous glint still visible in his eyes. “What did you want liquor for anyway?”

Historia hugged herself, making sure to look as small and defeated as possible. After what he’d just done to her, it wasn’t too difficult a feat. “I’ve been…stressed,” she said, staring down at her feet. “Everything’s been so tense lately that I just wanted to…to forget it all for a few hours.”

Valence’s chest swelled. “If you’re looking for stress relief, I can think of a few ways to help out,” he said huskily, trailing his right fingertips down her arm.

Historia recoiled from him. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her voice shaking.

Valence put his hands up. “Don’t get all sensitive. Me and the other guys know we aren’t your type.” He stepped in close, caging her once more against the door. “But if you ever want to know what it feels like to be with a man, you come to me. I could make you forget all about your worries for a little while.”

 _Not even if my life depended on it,_ Historia thought with hatred, but she held her tongue.

“May I leave now?” She asked.

For a second it seemed like Valence would refuse her, but then he relented. “Fine. But if I catch you sneaking around where you don’t belong again, I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

Historia straightened her robe. “If you do anything like this again, I’ll go to my father.”

Valence smiled. “Oh yeah? And what do you think he’d do?”

Historia felt what little blood remained drain from her face. _Nothing,_ she knew. _He’d do nothing._ And judging from Valence’s confident tone, the hefty bodyguard knew it too.

No one was going to protect her from anything, especially not her father.

Without saying another word, Historia turned on her heel and left, the information she’d gleaned from the letter burning in her mind the same way her throat was burning from the abuse of Valence’s fingers.

Her risk-taking hadn’t been in vain, but in order to survive this game she was playing, Historia knew she would need to be much, much more careful in the future.

 

**

“And you’re not to tell anyone what you are doing and where you are going. If asked, say that you are under orders not to speak a word. _I_ will handle the fallout, if there is any.”

Brianne’s lips turned down as a deep furrow appeared on her dark, smooth forehead. “You are putting yourself at risk, Commander. Are you sure you would not rather have us claim we are working independently, without your knowledge?”

Samar perked up at that, the idle rhythm he’d been tapping on the table with his fingers momentarily ceasing. “Brianne has a point,” he added, leaning back in his chair. He was the only one seated at present, so he had to tilt his head up to catch Kai’s eyes. “Many believe us to be common mercenaries anyway, so it wouldn’t be out of character for us to take on a job from an independent contractor behind your back.”

Kai sighed, resting her hands on the top rail of the chair in front of her. “Except that it would,” she said, looking between her two subordinates. “Your past reputations are just that: _past_. The two of you are the most faithful, trustworthy people I know, and I will not have the integrity of your characters sullied to shield my own reputation. Even if you are willing.”

Samar shrugged. “So be it,” he said.

Brianne, however, was not as easily deterred. She stepped forward from where she’d been leaning against the wall, walking over until she could rest her fists on the conference table. “Kai,” she said gently, “do you really believe this endeavor is worth the risk? If Reiss finds out, we could all be turned out for our involvement.”

Kai said nothing at first. She knew that being turned out was a possibility—she’d known it from the second that Armin Arlert had spoken of his plan. The good doctor might not have realized the gravity of what he had asked, but Kai was not naïve. Involving military personnel for scientific gain would be viewed as a power play, and Reiss would not take kindly to it.

But Eren Jaeger was living proof that things could be different, that the doomsday path humanity was on might be diverted, and Kai did not value her life more than that chance.

What hurt most was knowing that if something went wrong and Dr. Arlert’s plans did not succeed, Brianne and Samar would go down with her. The two ex-cons were more than just her most trusted subordinates—they were her confidantes, her friends, and, since she’d lost her biological one, the closest thing to family that she had. To say that she cared for them deeply was an understatement. She loved them like the brother and sister she’d lost.

And knowing that they were willing to die on her orders, without so much as questioning her, only made this decision all the harder to make.

But the decision still had to be made.

“Yes,” she said eventually, heavily. “We could all be turned out for this.” She looked between Brianne and Samar, gauging their expressions carefully. “But think of what we could gain by taking that risk. We’re talking about thousands of saved lives and a chance to live outside again, a chance to be free of walls and isolation.” She released the top rail from where her hands had been gripping it. “If Eren Jaeger is courageous enough to face the reality he lived with for six years because he believes there is hope for humans like him, I do too. And if we don’t succeed, well…maybe we will open the doors for someone else to try and do better.” She paused, her voice dropping slightly. “Sometimes, sacrifice _is_ the only way forward.”

Everyone was quiet after that, until Samar broke the silence.

“You sound like your sister,” he said.

Kai stiffened, but not in anger. The only people she felt comfortable discussing her family with were here in this room, but that didn’t change the fact that even after so many years, she’d never properly dealt with her grief.

“Maybe my sister’s beliefs were not so wrong after all,” she said softly.

Three tentative knocks broke the mood.

Kai nodded at Brianne, and the dark-skinned woman walked over and opened the door, stepping aside to let Armin Arlert and a wide-eyed Eren Jaeger into the conference room.

Eren’s reaction at seeing the six-foot-tall, muscular Brianne was close to comical. He looked the woman up and down from her bald head to the combat boots on her feet, his gaze lingering on the wicked scar bisecting her cheek, and then he swallowed visibly.

Kai repressed a smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone stare upon meeting Brianne for the first time. “Eren, meet Brianne. Brianne, Eren.”

The black woman extended a hand, which Eren took. “Welcome back,” she said.

“Uh, er…thanks,” Eren replied, trying to muster a polite smile.

Kai gestured to Samar, who had at last risen from his chair to face their visitors. “And this is Samar.”

The brown-skinned man inclined his head. “So you’re the titan, huh?”

Eren’s green gaze dropped to his feet. “Former titan,” he corrected quietly.

Samar crossed his arms. “Right,” he acknowledged unapologetically. “And do you really think you gleaned enough useful information while in your… _other_ nature to lead this little operation? ”

“Well, I—I remember everything and I was out there for almost six years, so I think I can help.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Samar,” Kai interjected sharply. Her subordinate fell silent and she turned to Eren. “Please forgive my subordinate’s attitude. I imagine this can’t be easy for you, Eren, but I hope you understand that Brianne and Samar are putting their lives at risk to undertake this mission with you. They will naturally have questions, which is why the three of you will be spending the next forty-eight hours together. I expect you to give them all the information you can on what to expect beyond the fortress, and they will refresh your memory of combat techniques.” She paused. “Questions?”

Finally, Eren looked up. “Will Dr. Arlert be staying with us?” He asked hopefully.

“No. I believe that you need to develop a rapport with my subordinates prior to leaving Rose, and that can best be done if the three of you operate as a unit. Dr. Arlert and I will check in with you, but other than that the three of you will be on your own.”

Eren tried to hide his crestfallen expression, though he didn’t quite succeed. “Oh. Okay, I guess.”

Brianne stepped forward, making Eren nearly jump out of his skin. “I’ll show you where you’ll be bunking,” she said, and then her eyes met Kai’s. “Is there anything else, Commander?”

Kai shook her head. “No. You’re dismissed.”

Brianne and Samar left without any further prompting, ushering Eren along with them, but Kai called out before the doctor followed suit.

“Dr. Arlert—a moment, please.”

The blond man turned back, waiting.

“I have a question for you, and I would like a straight answer.”

“Very well,” the doctor answered, a touch of wariness creeping into his voice. “What is your question?”

“I remember when you were inquiring about Dr. Zoe around my soldiers, so I am well aware that her notes on the serum you used to cure Eren Jaeger were missing. My question is: who returned those notes to you?”

Kai had been seeking a candid reaction, and a candid reaction was exactly what she got.

Armin Arlert’s face paled and his lips parted in surprise. “I…are you doubting my ability to discover a cure on my own merits?” He said after a pause, evading her question by going on the offensive.

Kai felt her mood darkening. “I don’t appreciate the deflection, Dr. Arlert,” she said, letting coldness seep into her voice. “Answer my original question.” She cocked a brow at him. “Or do you have something to hide?”

She was pushing him, willing him to break, to confess whatever it was that she was sure he was concealing. She already knew that he was hiding something. What she wanted was confirmation—and a name.

“Very well,” Armin said at last. “If you insist on knowing, it was Erwin who recovered the notes and returned them to me. I wanted to know where he’d found them, but he told me not to ask so I respected his wishes and didn’t push the issue.”

He was lying; Kai could see that as clear as day, but it was also obvious that he was going to cling to his lie, even if she continued to dig for the truth. Her lips tightened. “Be careful who you trust, Dr. Arlert. Not everyone who aids you is a friend.”

“Do you doubt Erwin’s integrity?”

That struck a nerve. “I’m beginning to doubt yours,” Kai answered, bristling. “You and I both know that I was not referring to Erwin Smith. Just because you offered his name does not mean that I believe you. Do not insult my intelligence by thinking that I will accept everything you say at face value.” She clenched her fists, keeping her anger in check. “So, unless you are going to divulge the real answer to my question, I have nothing more to say to you.”

For a brief second, the doctor almost looked ashamed, but then he collected himself and nodded. “You have the real answer,” he insisted, his gaze steady. “I will be back tomorrow to check on Eren’s progress with Brianne and Samar. Good day, Commander Ramirez.”

Kai watched him go in silence, fuming inwardly.

It was clear enough why he wouldn’t tell her the truth—either Armin Arlert was involved with someone that she wouldn’t approve of, or the person he was involved with wouldn’t approve of her _._ After all, if the mystery person were a friend or comrade, there would be no need for secrecy.

Which meant that the person in question was not a friend _or_ a comrade.

_Friend or foe, friend or foe, if you have to ask…_

Kai sat down at the empty conference table, drumming her fingers on the table as Samar had been doing earlier.

 _Who are you protecting, Dr. Arlert?_ She wondered, feeling uncharacteristically uneasy. _Who?_

 

**

Even with Levi still healing, traveling as a team of two was much easier than traveling with a large group of people. They covered a lot of ground every day, making more progress than the group they were following—as evidenced by the increasing freshness of the tracks. Mikasa was confident that they would reach the others in a few more days.

It would be good to see them; she’d genuinely missed the humans, and she was restless over not knowing whether or not they were all right. Tracks could tell you a lot, but they couldn’t reveal an exact number of people or tell you which people they were. The only small consolation prize was that one set of tracks was noticeably smaller than all the rest, which meant that Cody must still be alive.

A twinge of guilt rolled through Mikasa’s stomach as she thought of Petra’s little girl. During their time in the bunker, Mikasa had had a lot of time to ponder her actions the day she’d returned, to rethink her decisions. She’d been so single-minded in getting to Levi that she’d left Clio and the others in haste and probably prematurely. Someone could have needed her help, and she hadn’t made sure everyone was safe before heading into the woods. What if someone had died because of her rashness?

_But Levi would have died if I hadn’t left exactly when I did._

She’d spent a lot of time musing over that thought as well, and she couldn’t deny that it was true. She’d arrived in the bombed-out clearing not a second too soon—one more moment and Levi would have been titan food.

Still, the fact that she’d left the others in possible danger didn’t sit well with her, and she couldn’t get away from the sinking feeling in her gut that if someone had died because she hadn’t been there, Levi would never forgive her for it. He never put himself first, and he wouldn’t have wanted her to put him first, either.

Mikasa was brooding over it all so deeply that it took her longer than usual to realize that Levi was watching her.

“What is it?” She asked.

He stopped walking, wincing slightly as he stilled. “Let’s make camp here for the night,” he suggested.

It was nearly an hour earlier than they usually stopped, but Mikasa could see Levi’s fatigue and – now that her mind was not whirring a million miles an hour – she could feel her own fatigue as well.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get started.”

Levi shook his head, his lips setting in a stubborn line. “I can help, Mikasa.”

She didn’t have enough energy to argue with him, and in the end, she knew that he was right. She had to trust that Levi knew his own body well enough to make judgment calls like this; if he thought he had enough strength to help set up their camp, then he did.

They set about their tasks in companionable silence, and in short time, their pallets were spread out beneath the makeshift shelter of overhanging branches and they had a small fire going.

Mikasa watched Levi portion out a third of his remaining food, ignoring the way her own stomach rumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fed, and her fangs were aching.

“I can tell, you know,” Levi said eventually. He had almost finished his meal, and he was pushing the remaining smattering of berries and other small morsels around with the tip of his index finger.

“Tell what?”

His eyes flickered to hers, then away. “I can tell how hungry you are,” he said quietly. “I can feel it.”

Mikasa swallowed. Of course. She forgot, sometimes, that their blood bond went both ways. “It’s been…a while since I fed,” she admitted, deciding not to deny it.

“Yeah, and it shows.” Levi tucked the remainder of his food into the small knapsack and stashed the knapsack back in the larger pack. “I didn’t request an early stop today for my sake. You’re dragging, Mikasa.”

She felt her shoulders sag at his words. “Only a little,” she hedged. “But I’ll be all right.”

Levi sighed. “I’m stronger than I was a week ago,” he said. “Strong enough for you to take blood if you need to.”

The suggestion made her recoil as much as it tempted her. “No.” The word was firm on her lips. “Maybe in another few days, but not now. You’re still recovering.”

“Mikasa…”

“I’ll be okay. Really. I’ve gone this long before without feeding.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What happens,” he finally said, “when you go _too_ long without feeding?”

The question surprised her—not because it wasn’t a logical question to ask, but simply because Levi so rarely asked questions about her nature.

“Vampires can starve to death just like humans can,” Mikasa answered. “But it’s more likely that bloodlust will set in before then. I’ve seen starving vampires snap before.” She paused, giving Levi a sidelong glance. “Why? Are you afraid that I might go rabid?”

She asked it with a trace of sarcasm, but it didn’t seem to amuse Levi at all. He frowned. “No. I’m just…” He shifted. “Worried about you,” he finished, not looking at her.

Mikasa felt a flush of warmth squeeze her chest. It meant a lot, having someone care enough to worry about her. She had been alone for so long that she’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

She studied Levi’s profile, her eyes drawn first to the steady pulse at his throat and then to the faint white lines running from his chin to his shoulder, frowning at the way they glowed in the firelight.

“How did you get those?” She asked softly, her voice a curious murmur.

It only took Levi a second to realize what she was talking about. He shrugged. “The usual. Titan attack. The thing caught me by surprise. It happened while you were gone.”

On an impulse, Mikasa scooted towards him, closing the distance between them until she was kneeling just to his left, and then she reached up and ran her fingers over the lines running down his throat, tracing the path the titan’s claws had made in his skin. They were jagged in places and raised slightly, still in the process of healing.

“They’re deep,” she commented, her brow furrowing.

Levi stopped her fingers from completing their journey, holding her hand captive against his neck, stilling her. “I’ve had worse,” he said slowly, and the look in his eyes – that trademark blend of somberness and weariness that only appeared in those who had endured long-time suffering – made her believe him.

It also made her ache for him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.” The words were gruff. “You’ve been through shit too,” he added. “Everyone who’s survived in this world has been through shit. That’s the nature of life.”

Mikasa swallowed against the rising lump in her throat. She didn’t want to be so affected, but Levi’s words made her indescribably sad. Feeling defeated, she rocked back on her ankles, dropping her hand away from Levi’s neck. “Is that really all there is?” She said eventually, the words small and fragile even to her own ears.

_Pain? Suffering? Death?_

Those were certainly the elements of life she'd known best over the last six years, so maybe it was true. Maybe there was really nothing else to look forward to.

It was a depressing thought.

Levi shifted slightly, moving his legs to either side of Mikasa’s knees. “No,” he said firmly, as if he could sense the bleakness of her thoughts. “It’s not.”

Mikasa was about to ask him what he meant when she realized that Levi was still moving, shifting forward.

Her eyes widened as one of his hands came up and cupped the nape of her neck. “What are you—”

“It’s not all there is,” he said, and then he gently pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a long kiss—his lips lingered on hers just enough for Mikasa to feel their softness and warmth, but it was a match struck, a fire kindled, and when Levi pulled back, Mikasa’s only thought was to chase the sensation.

Without even being fully conscious of her actions, she brought her hands up to Levi’s chest and leaned towards him.

_I want…_

She kissed him, harder than he’d kissed her, her lips driving against his with all the fervor she’d kept at bay for weeks.

The answering groan she received from Levi only spurred her on, and she melted into him, momentarily forgetting his injuries until he groaned again – this time in pain – and the hand he’d had on the back of her neck slid up into her hair and tugged.

Mikasa gasped, breaking off their kiss. “Sorry,” she said breathily.

Levi’s eyes were dark. “Fuck sorry,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “Some things are worth a little pain,” he added in a murmur, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

Mikasa shuddered. _“Levi…”_ She said weakly as he tugged on her lip before releasing it.

Levi chuckled, his steel eyes full of dangerous humor. “You’re not the only one who can bite, vampire,” he teased, letting his lips skate down to her throat.

Mikasa arched into his touch, bringing her chest flush to his while one of her arms slid around his back, clutching at him like an anchor. She was trembling from the mere whisper of his lips on her fragile skin, and when he parted his lips and she felt the wet press of his tongue against her neck, she was all but shaking, her fingers curling into his worn sweater restlessly, her budding arousal heightening as one of his hands slid down the curve of her waist and gripped her hip, urging her closer to him.

Mikasa wondered, vaguely, the thought skittering across her consciousness, if this was how Levi had felt before she’d fed from him: wanted, needed, aching to be possessed in a way that couldn’t really be described. She’d felt the stir, the intimacy of it herself, but those feelings had been overshadowed by the need to feed, by her need for blood. But now, even though she was hungry, all her awareness was focused on the physical: the flick of his tongue and gentle suction of his mouth, the way her body felt pressed into his, the way his grip on her hip was solid, sure, _tightening._

As if reading her mind, Levi scraped his teeth against her jugular, running them from her collarbone up to her jawline and back before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the hollow of her throat. “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s how it felt.”

He leaned back enough that Mikasa could search his eyes, and she found nothing but honesty there.

Honesty and that tantalizing hunger that was becoming all too familiar to her.

She licked her lips, feeling her fangs stir and a touch of wetness much further down, instantly reminded of their last day in the bunker.

She’d never had a lover, never had someone she’d even come close to being with aside from a few stolen kisses and fumbling gropes shared with her by other vampires in her village, but this thing she felt for Levi – this desire that went far beyond any simple craving for blood – made her wonder if _this_ was what it was like to desire someone. The actualization of it all was foreign to her, but the raw need for something…something _more_ made her instinctively want to press closer to Levi, to kiss him again, to touch every inch of him as she sank her fangs into his neck and…

Levi’s sudden tenseness roused her faster than the sound of a snapping branch did, but in a matter of seconds the heady mood was forgotten and they were both on their feet, standing back to back and scanning the forest around them.

It didn't take long to locate the source of the intrusion—a lone titan was coming towards them from the west, probably drawn by the light of their fire. When it saw them, it attacked, but it lacked any kind of finesse and Mikasa took it down with one blow before it managed to get within ten yards of their camp. When it was done, she retracted her fangs and claws, staring down at the corpse for a moment before walking back to where Levi was putting out their fire.

“Just in case,” he said by way of explanation.

It didn’t matter to Mikasa one way or the other—it wasn’t like she needed the warmth to survive. But Levi did.

“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough without it?”

Levi grunted out an affirmation as he stamped down the last of the embers, sending a few orange sparks flying into the air. “It hasn’t snowed in a few days and it doesn’t feel as cold tonight. I’ll be fine.” He gave her a look. “You, on the other hand, won’t be fine if you don’t feed soon.”

So, they’d circled back around to _that_ conversation. Mikasa sighed, relenting in the face of Levi’s stubbornness. “Okay,” she yielded. “You’re right. I need to feed. And I will,” she went on before he could interject, “as soon as we catch up to the others. It would be too much of a risk for me to take blood from you now. We’re alone, you’re still healing, and if we had to defend ourselves against more than just a single titan like tonight, we would both need our strength. I am uninjured; I can easily manage my hunger for a few more days.”

After a heavy pause, Levi nodded slowly. “All right. But if things change…”

“I’ll tell you,” Mikasa promised. She paused, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Levi,” she began, “about what happened before the titan showed up…we…”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he cut in, the words landing like knives in Mikasa’s heart. “We’re exposed out here, and that was reckless, stupid. I’m sorry.”

“ _I’m_ not,” Mikasa countered bravely, even though she felt incredibly small in the wake of his regret. “I’ve wanted to know what that would feel like since we left the bunker. And even since before that,” she admitted quietly.

Levi approached her, his expression controlled save for the slight heat in his gaze. “Make no mistake,” he said softly, huskily. “I’m not sorry it happened, only about the circumstances. I’m smarter than that—we both are. But sometimes…” His eyes traveled down her neck and roamed lower before he seemed to catch himself. He closed his eyes for a second, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “It’s hard to stay in control.” He brought a hand up to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “I want you, Mikasa,” he whispered. “More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.”

Mikasa leaned into his touch, bringing a hand up to cover his. “I’m right here,” she murmured.

Levi’s hand tightened beneath hers. “I know,” he said, and then he let his hand slip away from her. “And when we get to Rose and we’ve bathed the grime of this fucking ordeal off of us and we don’t have to be on guard all the time, _trust_ me—I plan on taking full advantage of that fact.”

His voice had dropped in pitch towards the end, full of some dark promise that made Mikasa’s stomach flip, but it was something else, something much more innocent, that made her smile.

“You said when,” she observed.

Levi blinked at her in bemusement. “When?”

“You said _when_ we get to Rose, not ‘if’.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Mikasa saw a small but genuine smile brighten Levi’s face. It softened his features, made him appear younger and more boyish than she’d ever seen him look before.

And it was utterly, completely endearing—a glimpse at a happier, more hopeful version of the hunter she knew.

Levi snorted. “So I did,” he agreed dryly. He shrugged. “Huh." He shot her a look from beneath half-lifted eyelids. “Guess you’ve given me something to look forward to, vampire.” His smile faded, although the levity remained in his voice. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go get some rest.”

Mikasa followed him back to their pallets without arguing, but she knew that, judging from the way she was tingling from her head to her toes, she was much too awake to get any rest that night.

And she didn’t care at all.

 

**

It had been a day of unexpected events, starting with Historia sharing the coded message she’d found two days earlier in her father’s study and followed up by witnessing Eren training with Brianne and Samar and clearly gaining the respect of Kai’s two most trusted subordinates.

But the most unexpected part of Armin’s day occurred when he unlocked his apartment door and found Dex lounging in his armchair.

The albino man was sitting with his legs crossed and his hands folded across his lap, and he looked entirely at ease, as though breaking and entering were a perfectly acceptable thing to do.

Then again, Dex probably thought that it _was_ an acceptable thing to do.

Armin mastered his surprise and closed the front door behind him, resisting the urge to ask the other man how exactly he’d gotten into the locked apartment, mostly because he had a feeling that Dex would just offer a sly smile and refrain from answering anyway.

So instead, Armin cleared his throat and asked, “What’s happened?”

Dex cocked a pale eyebrow. “Happened?” He echoed. “What would make you think that something has happened?”

“Well, we do have a scheduled meeting in three days, so I’m assuming that if you have something to discuss that couldn’t wait until then, it must be important or something must have happened.”

“Hm.” Dex raised one of his hands and began to inspect his fingernails, his whole demeanor one of complete disinterest. “No,” he said after a pregnant pause. “Nothing has happened.” His grey eyes flickered up to Armin. “I merely wanted to stop by and say hello to your houseguest. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that he was no longer here.”

“Eren is—”

“With Commander Ramirez’s lackeys,” Dex finished. “Yes, Dr. Arlert, of that I am already aware. My question is: why?”

It was unsettling enough that Dex knew that Eren had been staying with him instead of at the lab, but it was even more unsettling that Dex knew where Eren was now—especially considering that the only other people who knew – Erwin and Historia – had agreed not to mention it to the albino.

Armin kept his tone casual. “Eren expressed interest in regaining his military fitness,” he said, injecting his lie with grains of truth. “Now that he is human again, he is trying to figure out where he fits in. Since he was in the military before, it seemed like a natural enough place to start.”

“Ah.” The word was do nondescript that Armin couldn’t glean anything from it. “Why go to Commander Ramirez, then, and not to our dear friend Erwin Smith?” Dex asked.

It was a logical question, and Armin struggled to come up with a believable answer. “Eren is…” His mind raced. “Eren is, well…he is affected by what happened to him. He associates the Legion with the vaccine, and I was worried that renewing any kind of bond between the two would cause him to breakdown or regress, so I suggested he get a true fresh start—with new people and a newer, still active branch of the military.”

“So Commander Ramirez knows what Eren is.”

The displeasure Armin detected in Dex’s voice made him uneasy. “Yes,” he admitted slowly. “She knows.”

With the fluidity of a cat, Dex rose from the armchair and stepped forward, nonchalantly straightening the bottom of his starched button-down as he did so. But when he stopped well within Armin’s personal space and his grey eyes bored into Armin’s blue ones, there was nothing nonchalant about his gaze. It radiated coldness, anger, and predatory threat, and Armin had an instinctive urge to step back, to retreat away from the danger he sensed there.

“Perhaps I was not clear before, Dr. Arlert,” Dex said, his voice soft but as stinging as the feel of ice on skin. “Everything I do is a game of chess, and you agreed to play this round. But just because you are involved does not mean that you are the king. In the future, if you wish to make a move, you will clear it with me first. Otherwise, I may have to sacrifice your piece. Knavishness and secrecy are things I do not tolerate.”

Armin swallowed. “I never meant to insult you,” he said. He could feel dampness on his palms. “And I would have told you about all of this at our next meeting—you just beat me to it.” It was a blatant lie, but Armin sensed that right then, he needed to placate Dex. The albino man may not have been as physically intimidating as the soldiers and bodyguards within Rose’s walls and he may not have shared Kai’s alpha-like aura, but he radiated a coldness that was unparalleled. There was no doubt in Armin’s mind that, when he looked at Dex, he was staring into the eyes of a killer.

“Commander Ramirez is not a fan of mine and she has never been a believer in the ends justifying the means, no matter how worthy the cause. She would interfere with my work if she knew of it. So, if I find out that she hears of my involvement in your project, what happens next will be on you.”

Armin flinched at the implication. “I will not say a word,” he vowed.

“Good. And I expect to hear of any other interactions you have with her going forward.”

“Of course.”

Dex stepped back, giving Armin some much needed breathing room. “Do not try my patience again, Dr. Arlert,” he said, and then, without another word, he brushed by Armin and strode to the door.

Armin listened to Dex open the door and leave, frozen in place until he heard the sound of the door latching closed, and then he sank to his knees.

 _I should never have gotten involved with him,_ Armin thought miserably. Every time he had an encounter with the albino man, one thing became more and more certain to him: not everyone involved in Dex's schemes was going to survive the coming tribulations.

Maybe none of them would.

 

**

Quintus regarded the cowering, pitiful creature kneeling before him in silence, weighing the implications of the story the underling had shared.

The large tent they were in was full but silent, all of the gathered soldiers waiting on Quintus to speak. It was one of the many perks of being one of The Seven—no one ever dared to cross him, even in the minutest of ways.

Usually, that knowledge and the certainty of his power over all other titans gave Quintus great pleasure, but right now, his disquiet was dampening all other sensations.

He looked down at the underling again. “You’re sure?” He asked, his voice rumbling.

The thing nodded up at him subserviently. “Yes, sir. A vampire and a hunter.”

Quintus snarled. It was a bad omen, and it also meant that he and the others were not as on top of current events as they should be. If allegiances between vampires and hunters were forming, there was no telling what else might be brewing in the cesspool of humanity. And the humanoid creature the underling had mentioned…? The fact that it had been strong enough to slay Demetrius, a superior, was cause enough for alarm, but the fact that no one had ever seen a creature that matched its description before was even more troubling. The attack on Maria had been successful because they’d had the upper hand; in order to take down the remaining human strongholds, they needed to retain the upper hand, or, judging by these unforeseen complications, regain it.

“Very well.” Quintus motioned at two of his commanders, and they came forward immediately, each bending a knee.

“Prepare my horse and choose ten soldiers,” he instructed. “I am going to speak with Primus.”

His commanders bowed their heads. “Yes, General,” they rasped, each hurrying away to do his bidding.

Quintus then gestured towards the underling at his feet. Two more soldiers came forward, each grabbing one of the creature’s arms.

“Rend him.”

The titan paled and started to jerk in the soldiers’ grasp, struggling. “Please no,” he begged.

Quintus looked down at him, feeling nothing but apathy. “You have brought useful information, and for that I am grateful. But you abandoned Commander Demetrius and your unit during battle. You are a deserter, and you know the penalty.”

“Please!” The creature screamed, struggling harder. “Mercy!”

Quintus turned away without deigning to reply, ignoring the screams and shouts for leniency that followed after him. It had been months since a rending had been carried out; a brutal reminder of just how gruesome it was would do wonders for cultivating more obedience among the ranks. He would have liked to stay and watch it for himself, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

He strode out of his tent and hoisted himself up on his waiting horse, giving it a swift kick in the flanks to spur it forward, listening to the sound of hooves as the ten soldiers he’d requested galloped after him.

It was a full day’s ride to Primus’ base. Usually, when Quintus needed to speak with the head of the elites, he would send one of the superiors in his stead to act as envoy.

But not this time.

This information called for a personal visit and immediate action.

With a furious growl, Quintus urged his horse on faster.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there you have it!
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who left kudos last chapter, and a special shout out to everyone who commented. I struggled a TON with this chapter (I blame writer's block and the fact that I've been more inspired to work on Chapter 18 than this one), and there were weeks where I didn't write a single word, which is very unusual for me. To get myself through that, I used each and every single one of your kind comments as motivation, so believe me when I tell you that you guys are the reason this chapter happened. Even if I didn't respond personally to your comment, please know that your support inspired me to work through my struggles with this chapter. So again, thank you.
> 
> /end speech
> 
> Anyway... I hope you enjoyed the update! Please continue to support this story through kudos and comments. You readers really do mean the world to me! <3
> 
> Btw, I promise that Clio et al. will reappear in the next chapter. Originally, that reunion was going to happen in this chapter, but I ended up shifting things around so it got bumped. Gotta love my organizational skills.


	18. Almost

_Sometimes, it may feel like the storm is over, that you’ve made it through, when really the calm is not the end of the storm but its eye. It is a deceptive calm, and a cruel one, for you are not through the storm but at its heart, and the worst trials are yet to come._

\- Reflection taken from a recovered diary found in Trost District, author unknown

**

 

It was a cold night, though that wasn’t anything Jean wasn’t used to at this point. Shivering beneath the thin layers he’d piled on, feeling goosebumps rising and chafing against the stiff fabric of his perpetually damp underclothes, wincing as his toes and fingers stung like cold fire before the numbness settled in, breathing in the air that seemed to frost his lungs from the inside out…these were all sensations that had become routine, expected. What he wasn’t as used to yet was the other kind of coldness, the one that had settled in his chest ever since the day they’d attacked the titans, since the day Cap had sacrificed himself to save the rest of them. Since the day that Jean had _let_ Cap sacrifice himself to save them.

The dark hours dragged on as Jean turned the events of that day over in his mind, and just like the previous night and the night before that, Jean couldn’t console himself with memories of what had gone right. Yes, they’d beaten the titans, and yes, Clio’s plan had gotten them through what should have been a massacre. But now the group was without its captain. A good man was gone. Dead.

The closer they got to Rose, the more Jean felt the injustice of it. They were within a hundred miles – a hundred _fucking_ miles – of the fortress, and everyone in their group had survived so much hardship, had come so far. There wasn’t a single person there who didn’t deserve to set foot within the walls, who hadn’t earned the right to survive long enough to feel safe again. But apparently that didn’t matter in this world. Getting _so close_ wasn’t the same thing as getting there.

“Hey.”

Jean looked up. Clio was standing in front of him, frowning, his arms crossed across his lean chest. Jean hadn’t heard him approach, but then, he never did; utter silence was one of the hybrid’s many talents.

Jean straightened up, marginally. “There’s…nothing to report,” he shared glumly. “Area’s clear.”

The taller man didn’t move. “Okay.” He paused. “Would you like to get some sleep? I know you relieved Ed earlier than we agreed, so I could take the rest of your watch.”

Jean shook his head. “Thanks, but no.” It wasn’t like he would be able to get anything resembling a peaceful rest anyway. He looked up at his stand-in captain. “I’d rather have something to do,” he admitted honestly. “Makes me feel like I have a purpose.”

Clio was quiet for a moment. “Are we at Rose yet?” He asked finally.

Jean frowned at the question. “No?” He answered, not really knowing what the other man was getting at.

“Then you do have a purpose.” There was compassion in the hybrid’s human eye, but also resolve. “This group of ours has suffered unimaginable losses, Jean, I know, but we don’t get to give up or regret what’s happened. The sacrifices that our friends made – the sacrifice that your brave captain made – those were not in vain. We owe it to everyone we’ve lost to press forward and see the rest of these people safely to Rose.” His voice was fervent. “That is your purpose, Jean Kirschtein: to survive. To help others survive. Whatever grief and darkness you're grappling with...you need to let it go.”

It might have been the truth, but it didn’t make Jean feel any better. Still, he gave Clio a wry upward tilt of his lips. It wasn’t convincing as even a ghost of a smile, but it was the closest thing to a ' _thanks for the advice'_ he could muster.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll, uh, get back to patrolling.” He was worried for a second that Clio would offer to keep him company, but as usual, the hybrid was much more perceptive than that.

“I’ll relieve you in a couple hours,” Clio said with a nod. And then, softly, he added, “Hang in there. It does get easier.”

The hybrid disappeared as silently and suddenly as he’d arrived, and once again, Jean was left alone with the biting cold and the heaviness of his own thoughts.

He began walking in the opposite direction he’d been patrolling before, his eyes scanning the surrounding area but his mind miles and days away.

Until he saw something that shouldn’t have been possible and he was ricocheted back into the present moment with enough force to steal his breath.

Not twenty feet away, there was a vampire.

She’d seen him too, clearly—her fangs were bared and she was staring back at him, her black eyes as wide as Jean’s brown ones must have been.

And she wasn’t alone. There was another vampire with her, a male, his form slightly shadowed by the darkness of the nighttime forest. Both of them began moving towards him.

Jean screamed for help.

The figures stopped, which seemed rather bizarre, but then Jean saw them more clearly, their features coming into sharper focus, and he realized that the second vampire wasn’t a vampire at all and all his thoughts about their strange behavior faded to white noise.

He froze, blinking a few times. And then he blinked a few more times, convinced his eyes were deceiving him.

 _No,_ he thought. _No, this isn’t possible. I’m seeing things. I must be._

“Jean?” The apparition said.

Jean stumbled back a pace, his hand moving reflexively towards his knife. “You’re dead,” he wheezed, unable to process the impossibility that stood before him.

“I should be,” the male said, stepping forward. “But I’m not.”

Jean trembled. He wanted the ghost to be real. He wanted to believe. “Cap?” He whispered, just as Clio materialized at his side. A few seconds later, Ed made a much louder, more noticeable entrance.

The hybrid and the burly man both drew in sharp breaths. “Levi? Mikasa?” Clio said, his voice rife with incredulity.

“Holy shit,” was Ed’s contribution between panting breaths.

Jean’s fingers slipped away from the hilt of his knife, his knees buckling. “Cap?” He said again, louder this time.

The familiar sigh of irritation made Jean's chest swell with hope. “Yes, Kirschtein,” Levi grumbled. “I heard you the first time. It’s good to see you, too.”

Jean half-laughed, half-sobbed in reply. “But you…you were dead.”

Levi was close enough now that Jean could see the sobriety in the shorter man's gaze. “I would have been, if Mikasa hadn’t shown up when she did," his captain said. "She saved my life.”

In response to that admonition, Mikasa lowered her gaze, her hair slipping forward to cover her face, as if she were somehow embarrassed by Levi's frankness.

But Jean didn't care. Mikasa might have been the strangest, most self-conscious vampire he'd ever seen, but she was also the impossibly strong creature that had saved his captain's life, and, in doing so, she'd unknowingly saved a piece of him, too. So without even thinking about it, Jean stepped towards her and did something he never thought he’d do: he reached out and hugged a vampire.

Mikasa stiffened in surprise, but Jean didn't let go. He squeezed her gently in his arms. “Thank you, Mikasa,” he said huskily. "You are one crazy, amazing vampire."

He pulled away to find the pretty vampire staring at him in surprise. “You’re welcome,” she said.

Clio showed much more restraint than he had, but Jean still caught the warm smile that flashed across the hybrid's face. “Welcome back,” he said, looking first at Mikasa and then at Levi. “We missed you. Both of you.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Ed supplied, now that he’d finally gotten his breathing under control. He whistled through his teeth. “We’ve got a lot of muscle in our group, but the two of you…hell. You’re living legends. I can’t believe you’re alive and here, but damn I am glad.”

Mikasa’s lips pulled up into an embarrassed smile. “I’m not sure about us being legends of any kind, but thank you. It’s good to be back.”

Jean found himself smiling too, the happiness at being reunited infectious.

Only Levi seemed to be immune, and it was then that Jean realized how battered the man was, his visible skin covered with wounds in various states of healing, his posture not the impeccable military stance it usually was. Before he had time to comment on it, however, Levi cut in.

“Have you been taking Ymir’s shifts?” The Reaper asked quietly, effectively changing the direction of conversation.

He’d been addressing Ed, and the burly man nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Can’t say I’m too fond of the lack of sleep, but I’m happy to contribute.” He scratched idly at his head. “Hey, how’d you guess the shift change? You just got back.”

Levi’s voice remained impassive, but Jean could see a hint of pain in the man's lidded eyes. “Mikasa was there the day of the attack. She told me about Ymir.”

“Oh.” Ed shot a look of surprise in the vampire’s direction before he shrugged. “Yeah, well, Ymir’s had some trouble, um… _adjusting_ since then. Clio thought it’d be best for me to stand in for a while. ‘Til she gets her bearings and what not.”

Levi’s entire demeanor changed. “She’s had some trouble adjusting _since_ then?” He asked, the emphasis on the penultimate word as sharp as a knife.

And finally, Jean put the pieces together. _He thinks Ymir is dead,_ he realized with a shock. “Cap,” he said tentatively, “Ymir...she’s not dead—she survived.”

It was like a dam had burst, Levi’s stoicism suddenly overcome with a flood of disbelief and shock. “Ymir is alive?”

“Yeah,” Jean affirmed. “She’s alive. She lost her arm during the fight, but it's Ymir. She had a pretty rough couple days after it happened, and she still bitches and complains a lot, but she'll be okay.”

Levi looked so affected by that news that Jean thought, for a ridiculous second, that the legendary Reaper might actually hug him.

He didn’t, of course, but Jean smiled anyway, glad that for once, he’d gotten to deliver some _good_ news.

Cap - as always - mastered his emotions quickly. "And the others?" He asked, his tone once again all business. "Did we lose anyone else?"

This time, Clio was the one to deliver the good news. "Not a one, Captain," he replied. He gestured to Jean and Ed. "We didn't run into too many problems after we attacked the titan camp, but when we did, we kept our people safe."

The Reaper was quiet for a moment, looking between all three of them with an unreadable expression, and then he did something that Jean never would have expected him to do: he saluted them.

It wasn't quite as shocking as a hug would have been, but Jean thought it was pretty damn awesome anyway.

 

**

“Yeah, and then this asshole walks up like some mutant version of the Grim fucking Reaper and tells Jillian ‘step out of the way’ in this scary voice and draws that sword. I swear my life flashed before my eyes.”

Clio smiled wryly at Ymir’s description of him. Every time she told this story – and she was very fond of telling it – the tale got more dramatic and her name-calling became more colorful.

“I saw the blade come down,” the hunter continued, pausing to gaze around the campfire at her rapt audience, “and the next thing I knew, I was short one arm. One slice and it was gone, just like that.” She punctuated her finale with a snap of her fingers and then tossed a teasing glance in Clio’s direction. “It’s not fair, you know. Now I can only flip you off with one hand.” She did. “See? It doesn’t have the same effect.”

Clio chuckled. “And here I thought you didn't appreciate me,” he said sardonically. “I should save your life more often. Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Ymir snorted. “Save it, Jones. You could have at least warned me first.”

An image of Ymir on the ground, her right arm a crushed, bleeding mess, flashed before Clio’s eyes. A pool of blood had been spreading around the pulpy mess of her ruined limb, and he could still vividly recall the way the light was fading from the brunette’s terrified eyes. There had been no other way. If he hadn’t amputated her arm and gotten the stump wrapped in a tourniquet posthaste, she would have bled out in a matter of minutes. Probably sooner. “If I remember correctly, we were a little short on time,” he said with more sobriety. Then he eased up. “But don’t worry: next time I’ll give you a three second warning.”

Ymir’s eyes widened. “If that sword of yours even comes close to my remaining arm, I will make you pay. Starting with that bun.”

Clio reflexively touched the knot of hair on top of his head. “Why does everyone always threaten the bun?” He grumbled.

Ymir laughed. “Sasha has a big mouth.”

Sasha was sitting at the second campfire with the other civilians, but that didn’t stop Clio from shouting “damn you, Braus!” from where he was sitting. His exclamation was met with a very confused “huh?!” which elicited a chorus of laughter from everyone except the confused pregnant woman.

Clio took that moment to look around at the people gathered around their own campfire. Ymir and Jean were sitting side by side and looking happier than he’d seen them look in weeks; Ed was beside them, still tucking into his dinner with a passion; Mikasa and Levi were sitting opposite the others, their fingers almost touching where they rested on the ground; and then there was Cody, of course, her little body tucked into Clio’s side. She was half asleep, her head lolling forward every few seconds and her eyes never fully open, but she’d wanted to stay up to hear everyone’s campfire stories and Clio had relented. It was hard to say no to Petra’s daughter, especially after all of the heartache she’d endured. If she fell asleep and Clio had to carry her over to her pallet next to Jillian, well, he could think of worse duties.

For now, having Cody there with him and the others, part of their impromptu reunion dinner, was about as close to a perfect night as any he could imagine.

Even after seeing Mikasa on the day of the attack, Clio had not expected that a reunion would ever occur, and he’d certainly never expected that the vampire would somehow save Levi. The fact that the two of them were alive and here, and that, against all odds, their group was together again, was incredible.

“Have you been practicing with your left hand?” Levi was asking Ymir when Clio tuned back in.

The tall girl sighed. “Yeah, but it’s been difficult. My aim is all off and I’m used to generating everything with a right lead. Now everything feels backwards.”

Levi nodded in understanding. “Keep practicing. It’ll get easier.”

“Please do,” Ed cut in. “I’m not cut out for nightly watch duties. I need my beauty sleep.”

Ymir smirked. “Ed, you could hibernate and it still wouldn’t be enough sleep to make you beautiful.”

Jean choked on the water he was drinking and Ed stood up, kicking a stray stick into the fire. “Could say the same thing about you, One Arm,” he said, and even Clio had to smile at the look of surprise on Ymir’s face. She wasn’t used to being outdone.

“Touché,” she admitted. She stood up too. “Tell you what: how about we take watch together tonight? I won’t be much help, but I promise I’ll insult you enough to keep you awake.”

Ed chortled, his wide maw splitting into a toothy grin. “Why not,” he said.

Clio watched as the unlikely pair shuffled off into the night.

“Clio?”

Cody’s voice was more yawn than word. She blinked up at him, her eyes not quite opening at the same time. “I’m…” another yawn “…tired.”

Clio smiled down at the girl. “All right,” he said, standing up and stretching. “C’mon, Miss Ral. Time for bed.”

To his surprise, though, Jean interrupted before he could pick Cody up.

“I’ll take her over to Jillian,” the younger man said. “I’m pretty tired myself.”

Clio relented, giving Cody a pat on her head.

The little girl swatted his hand away. “Don’t,” she said sleepily. “You’ll mess up my bun.”

Clio smiled in spite of himself. “Sorry,” he said, eyeing the frizzy, tangled mess crowning the girl’s head. The thing was already beyond help, but Cody had been attached to it ever since she’d coerced Jillian into doing it for her the previous morning. She’d even shoved one of the twins when they told her she was being a copycat, which was quite a reaction considering that they'd just been teasing her about her hair.

Clio bit back a smirk. He certainly didn't need three guesses to figure out where she'd acquired _that_ little defensive quirk.

 _Maybe I’m not having the best influence on her,_ he mused as Jean took the little girl’s hand and led her away.

“Clio.”

The hybrid turned back and took his seat again, peering at the Reaper across the fire. “Hm?”

“Thank you,” the man said. “For…for everything.”

Further explanation wasn’t necessary. Clio smiled. “Just doing my job, Captain,” he said. “And thank you for coming back. This group wasn’t the same without you.” He caught Mikasa's gaze. “Without either of you,” he added.

The three of them sat in silence after that – an easy, companionable silence – simply keeping each other company and listening to the dwindling crackle of their fire and the neighboring one until Levi excused himself in order to go check in on the now-sleeping civilians and Ymir and Ed.

Clio would have gone with him, but he sensed that Mikasa had more to say, so he remained where he was.

The vampire was fidgeting a little, but she didn’t say anything, so Clio took the reins. “Are you planning to stay with us?” He asked.

“Yes.” Her dark eyes were troubled. “I’m not sure it’s the right choice, but I…I can’t leave. Not now.”

Clio could sense her trepidation, her doubt. It was rolling off of her tense shoulders in waves, cascading down to where her hands were clenched like two fists of marble in her lap. “Staying might be the harder choice, but that doesn’t make it the wrong choice,” he countered gently. He watched the dying embers of the fire smolder out to smoke, the charcoal tendrils drifting into the night sky. “Were you unhappy with the other vampires?” He finally asked.

Mikasa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It had gotten longer since Clio had last seen it, the glossy ends now hanging well past her shoulders. “I wasn’t unhappy,” she answered. “But I missed all of you. More than I thought I would.”

It wasn't too difficult for Clio to read between the lines. “And one Reaper in particular?” He chanced.

Mikasa looked up at him, clearly surprised by his forwardness. But she didn’t deny it. “Yes,” she admitted. “I missed Levi.” She bit her bottom lip, worrying at it for a moment before she spoke again. “I’m…bound to him,” she went on. “We’re bound to each other. One of the older vampires explained it to me.” Her eyes found Clio’s again. “It’s called a blood bond. They’re very rare and very strong. Levi and I…we’re tethered to each other for life.”

 _That_ was quite a revelation, although it made a lot of sense. It certainly explained the way the two had always seemed to gravitate towards each other. But Clio sensed that wasn’t the whole story. “And?” He prompted.

“And I love him,” Mikasa said quietly. “And I think he feels…something for me, but lately I’m not sure if that’s because of the bond or because his feelings are genuine.”

Clio leaned forward onto his elbows. “Does it have to be an either or, Mikasa?”

“No,” she ceded. “I suppose it doesn’t. But I…I want him to love me for me.” A pained look crossed her face. “I want him to love me the way he loves Jocelyn.”

Clio felt for her, truly. This was a much different conversation than the last one he’d shared with Mikasa around a campfire. She’d hated the Reaper, then, when he’d literally had her heart. Now he figuratively had it and her feelings were just as strong in the opposite direction.

The irony of it was not lost on him, nor was her sadness. “Give him time,” Clio advised. “I haven’t known Levi for very long, but from what I’ve observed it’s obvious that when he cares, he cares deeply. He might always love the woman he lost, but that doesn’t mean he won’t feel the same way about you one day.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“I’d wager I am,” he tried to assure her. “We’ll be at Rose in a few days,” he added, suddenly realizing that, after all this time, their journey was finally coming to an end. It was an uplifting thought. “Things will be different when we’re not constantly on guard and under attack; you’ll have time to figure things out.”

The troubled look on Mikasa’s face didn’t dissipate, but it seemed to lessen slightly. “I hope so,” she said.

Clio stood up. “I’m going to go relieve Levi,” he said. “You can stay here, if you’d like.”

“Clio, wait.”

He did.

Mikasa stood up too, walking around the fire until she was standing in front of him. “There’s something else I found out while I was with the vampires," she said. "Something about you.”

Clio's eyebrows flew towards his hairline. “Something about me?” He repeated dubiously. Those three words were the very last that he would have expected to hear from her.

Mikasa nodded. “Do you know the story of the Wanderer?” She asked.

Clio thought for a second, unsure where exactly this conversation was going. “Vaguely," he said after a moment. "I remember being told the story when I was a child…the human girl that left her people and went out into the wilderness. There were all kinds of myths regarding what happened to her.”

“What happened to her wasn't a myth, and neither was she," Mikasa said. "Anna Ross was a real person, and during her travels she fell in love with a vampire named Alexei. They had a child together, a daughter, and she was raised by Anna’s human family." Mikasa paused. "A daughter who grew up and married a man named Caspar Jones,” she added.

Caspar Jones.

Casper _Jones_.

Clio stood there, rooted to the spot, a lifetime’s worth of insecurities and uncertainties suddenly snuffed out within the span of a few sentences. It was the truth he’d been waiting to hear his entire life, the answer to a question he’d never quite been able to voice aloud but one that had consumed his very blood from time immemorial.

_Who am I?_

He didn’t question what Mikasa had revealed to him because he didn’t need to. He knew it was true. He’d seen his family tree before, knew that it traced itself all the way back to a simple blacksmith named Caspar Jones. And even if he hadn’t, the veracity of his lineage was in the very nature of what he was, as clear as could be.

“So I really am a hybrid,” he said once he’d regained the use of his voice. “I always have been.”

“Yes.”

More pieces were falling into place. “That’s why the vaccine affected me differently,” he surmised. “Because my DNA wasn’t strictly human. I’m an anomaly because I’ve always been an anomaly.”

He looked down at Mikasa, feeling a budding smile twist at his lips. “Wow,” he commented dryly. “A mutated half-breed and a vampire who is bound to a Reaper. We’re quite a strange pair, aren’t we?”

Mikasa returned his half smile. “I prefer the term unique,” she replied. “And lucky, too. Not everyone gets to find a place where they fit in, a place where they’re accepted, but here, with these humans, I…I feel like we belong.” She looked up at him. “Is that crazy?”

“No.” It should have been, but it wasn’t. “I feel that way too. I feel like we’re family.”

“Family…” Mikasa repeated, the word filled with nostalgia. “I never thought I’d have that again.”

Clio thought of everything he’d lost, of the grief he hid deep down in the recesses of his memory where no one else could see it. “Neither did I,” he added quietly. “But here we are.”

"Yes," Mikasa murmured in reply. "Here we are."

They stood there for a suspended moment, silhouetted by the dappled moonlight shining down through the canopy of bare branches above them, not saying anything until Clio felt the urge to tell her one more thing. "I know I've already said it," he began, "and so has everyone else, but I'm really glad you're back."

"Thank you," Mikasa responded quietly. "I...I needed to come back." Her voice grew even softer. "A Guardian's place is with her people," she added.

Clio was no expert in vampire lore, but he remembered hearing the term _Guardian_ before. From what he could recall, they were leaders, defenders, warriors. And judging from the solemness in Mikasa's voice, Clio guessed that she must have been a Guardian herself—or at least been related to one.

It wasn't at all surprising; Clio recognized exceptional people when he saw them, and Mikasa was definitely exceptional, in more ways than she probably even realized.

"We're lucky to have you," he said, and then, wanting to lighten the mood, he clapped his hands together lightly. "All right," he said. "Enough chit chat. I know that you are immune to the cold, but I am not. I need to move or I'm going to freeze in place." He rubbed his hands together to create some warmth. Speaking about being cold made him realize how cold he actually was. Go figure. He exhaled and dropped his hands to his sides. "Let's go find your Reaper and do something productive."

He pretended not to notice the way Mikasa blushed at his choice of words, but for the second time that day, Clio couldn't suppress a small smile of amusement.

He really was glad to have her back.

 

**

“You’re sure you’re ready to do this?”

Eren looked up at the bald woman and swallowed, willing himself to be confident. After all, it was _his_ plan they were following. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.”

Brianne nodded and then motioned to Samar. “Okay. We’ll be at your six and twelve. If something goes wrong and you need us to intervene sooner than we agreed, shout loudly.”

“Okay.”

Brianne’s lips pressed into a tense line. “Good luck, Eren,” she said, and then she jogged away, Samar doing the same in the opposite direction.

And then Eren was alone in the clearing.

His fears resurfaced instantly, the terror of his titan years awakening like a sense memory: the sounds and smells of the forest, the pounding of his heart in his ears, the knowledge that there were others out there, the insatiable urge to tear and bite and kill…

He took a deep breath. _No. I am not that thing anymore. I am Eren Jaeger, I am human, and I am on a mission to help humanity. I am not afraid. I’m not._

He was.

But he was also not one to back down from something just because he was scared. Besides—he’d always thought that the best way to get over his fears was to face them head on.

Feeling a rush of determination, Eren began to set up his camp. He made sure to be as noisy as possible, dragging branches across the ground, snapping twigs, even coughing from time to time. After he was done assembling everything he needed, he constructed a small fire and lit it, throwing the darkening forest into crackling illumination.

Okay. Now all he had to do was wait.

He sat down and bent his knees, wrapping his arms around them as he stared off into the darkness around him. If he were still in titan form, he would’ve been able to discern shadow from form even as dusk turned to night, but his human eyesight was limited. There was a very good chance that, even if the plan worked, he wouldn’t see the titan coming. He also no longer had enhanced hearing, and titans – especially superiors – could be stealthy when they wanted to be.

There was so much that could go wrong.

Now, as he sat in front of his fire, Eren realized that acting as bait had seemed a lot safer when they’d only been discussing it.

But there was no turning back now.

He went over the plan again in his head to distract himself from nerves. _First, set a trap. Next, lure the titan in and capture said titan with assistance from Samar and Brianne. Finally, transport it back to Rose without being spotted by soldiers on patrol_.

During planning, figuring out that last part had proven exceptionally tricky for two reasons: one, Police soldiers were trained to shoot first and ask questions later; and two, their three-man mission had not been formally approved. But Commander Ramirez had given them a key that would open a back door into Rose—one that wasn’t monitored on the regular patrol route. So if they managed to succeed in capturing a titan (way easier said than done, no matter how badass Samar and Brianne were), their reentry should be taken care of.

As for the problem of transporting the captured titan, Dr. Arlert had given Brianne and Samar special darts to use. Each one was filled with a potent drug mixture meant to render even a strong titan unconscious, and even though the drug had only ever been tested on large mammalian predators, Eren was confident that the darts would work. He hadn’t known Dr. Arlert for very long, but the blond man had saved his life, and Eren thought that counted for a lot. He trusted the doctor.

The minutes ticked by, with no sign that the ruse was working. Feeling antsy, Eren stood up and kicked idly at the fire, sending a shower of sparks skyward. He watched them flicker out and then sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The clearing around him was still silent and empty, and there was—

Wait.

Eren squinted into the darkness, his body tensing.

_Did that shadow just move?_

Tentatively, he took a step forward, and then, when nothing happened, he took one more. “Hello?” He called out. Speaking went against every instinct he had, but he was supposed to be bait. If there was a titan out there, he needed to lure it to him. “Hello?” He called again, a little more loudly.

There was a rustle in the trees, and then the shadow that had moved earlier stepped forward, detaching itself from the surrounding darkness.

The titan opened its maw and bared its teeth.

And then a second titan stepped forward. And a third.

All three were horde titans. The superior they'd been tracking was nowhere to be seen.

Eren felt his throat go dry. _Something is wrong._ “Help!” He shouted, reaching for the dagger he’d brought along. “Multiple targets!”

The only response was a bloodcurdling scream that cut off much, much too soon.

It came from behind him, so Eren backed up a few paces, put the fire between himself and the three titans, and turned around.

What he saw nearly made him stumble into the fire.

The superior he’d been tracking, the one he’d been hoping would fall for his trap, was standing at the opposite end of the clearing, grinning at him.

Samar’s head was in its left claws, two of its talons speared through the back of the man’s skull and poking out of his eye sockets. There was blood dripping from the severed neck, and the hunter’s mouth was opened wide, as though he were still screaming from beyond the grave.

Breaking into a cold sweat, Eren held the dagger up in front of him with both hands. His whole body was shaking. “Brianne!” He shouted in a panic, but there was no reply. Maybe she was dead, too.

The titan dropped Samar’s head and looked past Eren. “Get him,” it spoke, its voice a guttural rasp.

The three titans behind Eren came charging, needing no further prompting.

Thinking fast, Eren grabbed a long stick that was only half in the fire, holding out the flaming side. He pointed it at the three titans on his left and then aimed his dagger at the superior calmly walking towards him from the right.

 _Maybe I can get out of this,_ he thought desperately. _I just have to stay calm. I can fight them. I can win._

But then Eren heard movement from directly behind him and he realized that there was, in fact, no way he could win.

 

**

When they set out that morning, it was still dark and cold, the sky a hazy grey and the air still retaining its nighttime bite. Mikasa could see rain clouds in the distance, heavy charcoal monsters that loomed maybe a dozen or so miles away from where they were. All in all, it was promising to be another bleak day of traveling, filled with little sun and lots of rain.

The mood of the group didn’t reflect this, however; everyone was expectant, hopeful, energized, like there was an electric current fueling each of them. Nobody had complained about the early set out time, and everyone was walking with a spring in their step. There was no talk of cold or lack of provisions or sore muscles. The predawn morning was filled with anticipatory silence and the feeling of everyone holding their collective breath, and the reason was obvious.

Today was the day they would finally reach Rose.

It was surreal, in a way. After months of traveling, the journey itself had become a way of life, and day by arduous day, the reality of ever reaching their intended destination had become more like a distant horizon—present, but never attainable, simply something to strive for. Walking, fighting, surviving…that was everything. The time before was a disappearing dream, and there was no after. There was only the pain and struggle of the now.

Only that was no longer their reality.

Rose was less than thirty miles away, and the terrain had leveled out considerably, meaning that the remainder of their journey - provided there weren't any unforeseen complications - would be a relatively easy one.

_We’re nearly there. We’re going to make it._

Those thoughts played like a mantra in Mikasa’s mind as the day wore on, as ever present as the warring emotions she couldn’t shake.

On one hand, she was as excited as the humans. Being able to truly rest in a dry, safe place without having to be on guard all of the time…oh, it would be indescribable.

On the other hand, her trepidation was growing with every closing mile. The concerns she and Levi had discussed before rejoining the others, the things she’d promised herself she wouldn’t worry about until it was necessary—those concerns were now valid. Rose was a _human_ fortress, after all, and she wasn’t human.

“Oi, Mikasa.”

Levi had dropped back, slowing his stride to match hers. His steel eyes were regarding her closely.

“I’m fine,” she said in reply to his unspoken question.

She had a feeling that he wasn’t relying on the blood bond to see through her lie. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Try not to worry,” he said. “We’ll figure it out when we get to Rose.”

His words didn’t make her nerves settle, but they did help, as did the simple comfort of having him near.

Which was why, when he made to move back to the front of the group, Mikasa stopped him, her anxiety getting the better of her. “Levi.” She bit her lip. “Could you…?” _Could you stay here with me, just for a little while?_ She stopped herself from fully asking the question, partly out of embarrassment and partly because she realized that she was being silly—there was no excuse for her neediness.

But Levi knew what she wanted anyway. He nodded and looked over his shoulder. “Clio,” he called back to the hybrid. “Take point for a while.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” the hybrid called back. A few seconds later, Clio’s tall, black-clad figure came into view. He gave Mikasa a knowing smile as he passed by, which made color creep onto her cheeks, but she was saved from any further chagrin by Cody.

“Are we really gonna get to lead the group?” The little girl asked. She was holding hands with Clio, staring up at the hybrid with wide eyes.

Clio pursed his lips. “Tell you what...how about _you_ lead the group? I’ll be your second.”

Cody beamed and then darted ahead of Clio a few feet, setting her face into a solemn grimace of determination. Clio followed her like a shadow, standing far enough back so that Cody could really feel like the leader but close enough to act as a shield.

 _He is going to be a wonderful surrogate father,_ Mikasa thought, and then she pushed that thought and every other thought away, focusing on the trek and Levi’s comforting presence at her side.

They caught up to the rain clouds by midafternoon, and despite everyone’s earlier excitement, the weather did put a damper on their progress in more ways than one.

As she watched the humans around her shiver as the cold rain soaked their clothing, Mikasa felt grateful that temperature was one element she didn’t have to deal with. Everyone in the group seemed uncomfortable and miserable.

Until Cody shouted a single, attention-grabbing word.

“Look!”

She was pointing to something through the trees in front of her, and Mikasa saw it through the rain at the exact same moment that everyone else did.

The imposing, unmistakable façade of a very large, very high wall.

“Rose!” Someone else shouted, and then they were moving as one unit, running with renewed energy, the finish line they’d been waiting so long to cross finally in sight.

Mikasa stood in shocked stillness for a moment as the rest of the group raced past her, listening to the rising chorus of whoops and hollers and cheers, and then she broke into a smile and jogged after them, Levi at her side.

More of Rose came into view as they drew closer, the high outer wall spanning some fifty meters across. It was also probably some thirty meters tall and fortified, capped by turrets and lookouts, all completely encaged with barbed wire.

Mikasa didn’t know much about the fortress itself, but from first glance alone, she could tell that it was definitely a step up from Maria in terms of security.

At this point, the group was a mere thirty yards away from the wall, Mikasa and Levi trailing just a few yards behind them, and almost all of the humans were waving their arms above their heads and screaming for joy, their rain-drenched, muddy clothes completely forgotten. A few of them were literally jumping up and down.

“Hey!” The first few shouted as they reached the wall, banging fists and arms against its unyielding surface. “Let us in! Let us in!”

Mikasa was watching them – grinning at the sight of Ed trying to literally muscle his way through solid wall – when she heard Levi bark a curse at her side.

She stopped in surprise, just in time to see Levi’s face go white. _“NO!”_ He roared, and then he shoved her, roughly, to the right.

Startled by the suddenness of Levi's action, Mikasa never even thought to break her fall. She landed hard in the mud, wincing at the impact. A second later, she felt another, fainter pain in her left shoulder.

She blinked in confusion, just as she heard Levi cry out in pain. He was on the ground next to her, clutching at his own left shoulder. There was an arrow a few feet behind him, bloody water dripping from its shaft.

_He's hit!_

The thought surfaced with a sense of dread but was immediately overshadowed as Levi crawled to her side and began pushing at her. “Run!” He yelled as he struggled to shove her away. There was raw desperation in his voice. “Run, Mikasa!”

Too late, Mikasa processed what he was saying.

Too late, she looked towards the wall and saw the guard in the watchtower, reloading his bow.

Too late, Mikasa reacted.

The arrow came sailing towards her, arcing through the sky just as she rose to her feet, a tiny projectile that seemed so small compared to the vastness of the sky it was flying through.

It hit her squarely in the chest.

Mikasa stumbled back, her dark eyes widening as her awareness narrowed to the tiny tip of lead protruding from her chest.

No—not her chest.

Her heart.

The realization drew a stunned gasp from her lips.

It was impossible, almost defying belief, and yet it had happened. The arrow had found its one tiny, devastating mark.

It was a true shot in a million.

Reeling, Mikasa fell to the earth, landing face-up in the mud, clutching at the pierced leather pouch through her shirt. She could already feel the blood on her face, could feel it starting to stream from her eyes and her nose, could see the red of it where it was seeping out from beneath her fingernails.

_The bleeds…_

The pain took hold then, and Mikasa screamed. She had endured pain before, had suffered greatly, but _nothing_ compared to this. Every millisecond was excruciatingly intense. It felt like her body was being shredded from the inside out, felt like someone was holding a live wire up to all of her nerve endings at once. Every limb, every muscle was screaming in agony, and her body was spasming in reaction, unable to contain the pain.

Mikasa had no idea how her grandmother had endured the bleeds with such dignity; it was unbridled, unmitigated torture.

Belatedly, Mikasa realized that she was being cradled, and she blinked through the haze of blood and tears until she could see Levi’s stricken face hovering above hers. He was brushing the blood away from her eyes and he was speaking to her, but Mikasa couldn’t hear past her own blistering screams.

With an anguished sob, she bit her tongue, willing herself to regain control.

She saw Levi break off the shaft of the arrow and then slip the leather strings from around her neck, saw the look of horror on his face as he drew the tiny pouch out from beneath her shirt and saw the arrowhead embedded in it.

“What can I do?” He said in a rush. “Blood? Bandages?” His hands were shaking. “Fuck, Mikasa, what should I do?”

She opened her mouth and then coughed violently before shaking her head. She could feel blood pooling in her throat, choking her.

Unable to explain, she reached up – the simple motion taking most of what little energy she still had – and placed her hand on Levi’s cheek. _Nothing,_ she told him, speaking through their bond. _You can’t do anything, Levi._

“Fuck that!” He barked, his face contorting in anger and pain. “This is not happening! It’s not!” He reached up with his free hand and pressed it against his bloody shoulder, then brought the dripping hand to her lips. “Just take my blood—fucking take all of it,” he growled. “Please, Mikasa.”

A few drops fell onto her lips, but Mikasa made no move to drink.

 _It won’t make a difference,_ she said silently. _There is no cure for the bleeds, Levi. You know that._

Before he could respond, a cacophony rose up in their periphery, and Mikasa was dimly aware of people shouting and the sound of heavy boots pounding on the ground.

 _Guards,_ she thought, from a place that seemed very far outside of her own body. _The guards are coming to finish the job._

She raised her head an inch, moving just enough so that she would be able to see her attackers before they descended upon her.

What she saw instead was Clio drawing his katana, standing defensively in front of the place where she and Levi were huddled on the ground, the rest of the Maria group flanking him.

“Back away,” she heard him say, his voice low and threatening.

There was the sound of a brief struggle, followed by the sound of a body hitting the mud.

“I said _back away_ ,” Clio hissed, accentuating his command with a warning slash of his katana.

The others had formed a protective circle around her and Levi, and some of them had even followed Clio’s lead and drawn weapons. Even tiny Cody Ral had her knife in hand.

“It’s a vampire!” An unfamiliar voice shouted. “We have orders!”

“I don’t care about your orders,” Clio responded. “No one touches her.”

“Why are you protecting it?” Another unfamiliar voice called.

This time, Ymir spoke before Clio could. “Because she’s one of us, you dolt,” the hunter said. “Now listen to the hybrid and back the fuck up.”

“You can’t—”

“Yes, we can,” Jean said. “You heard the lady. Mikasa is one of us. If you want to hurt her, you’re gonna have to go through us.”

Clio bared his fangs. “ _All_ of us,” he warned.

The tenseness of the situation was escalating - that much was obvious - and the hope of reaching a peaceful resolution seemed to be slipping away. More and more people were speaking and arguing, but the rest of the words were lost on Mikasa. There was a ringing in her ears now, something high-pitched and fuzzy, and it was drowning out everything else.

 _It's almost over now,_ she thought. _It has to be._

The tears streaming from her eyes were now more water than blood, and she blinked them away as best she could. When her vision cleared slightly, she took one long, final look at the circle of people around her.

It was an incredible sight.

The humans were protecting her.

Her _family_ was protecting her.

Mikasa was hurting, worse than she could ever remember hurting, every breath literal agony, but for a fleeting second, all of her pain was blotted out by a sense of fullness. If her heart could have stuttered, it would have, because in that singular moment, Mikasa felt happier than she had in a long, long time.

She was dying, yes, but her family was surrounding her. All of the people she still cared about in the world were with her, and she was in the arms of the man she loved.

 _I’m not alone anymore,_ she thought through her tears. _I found a home._

There were certainly worse ways to die.

The thought was enough to grant her a modicum of peace, but then she looked up at Levi and what was left of her bleeding heart shattered completely.

The Reaper, _her_ Reaper, was crying.

He was rocking back and forth where he knelt on the ground, his overgrown bangs dripping rain onto her face as he cradled her head in his hands. “ _Mikasa…_ ” He gasped, his whole face contorted with a sorrow so deep that Mikasa could feel the coldness of it seep into her dying bones. “You _can't_ ,” he choked out through his tears. “Just—just hold on...” He crumpled above her, resting his forehead against hers as he wept. “Fight it,” he begged. “ _Please_ …”

Mikasa didn’t have enough strength left to move. She didn’t even have enough strength left to speak.

_Our story was always destined to end in blood._

She'd found solace in that, once, and now cruelty didn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe the irony of it. She wanted to stay with Levi, to stay with her people, to live, to experience the future that had almost been hers.

But she'd never get the chance.

Her time was up.

She'd been holding on, but she couldn't any longer. Feeling consciousness slip away, Mikasa finally succumbed to the pain and fatigue and closed her eyes. _I love you, Levi,_ she thought. _I just wish we could have had more time…_

 

**

The arrival of the commander brought a decisive end to their standoff, and it didn’t happen a moment too soon.

Coming up from behind the Rose soldiers, the Latina woman barked a short order and her men immediately stepped aside, making way for her. She marched up to Clio, her brown eyes taking in the ragged group before her with tactical swiftness.

“Who are you and what is going on?” She asked, directing the question to Clio.

Clio retracted his fangs and skipped the introductions. “We are survivors from Maria seeking refuge. Your men shot one of our group members and then refused to back down after we explained the situation.”

“That’s because the _person_ we shot is a vampire, Commander! And so is this guy!”

The woman held up a tattooed arm, silencing her subordinate. “Is that true?”

“I am a unique product of the _Titan_ vaccine,” Clio answered. “Not a vampire. Mikasa—” he gestured behind him “— is a vampire. She is also one of us. She aided and protected our group during our long journey.”

A flash of disbelief stole across the commander’s features, which quickly settled into a severe expression. “We do not harbor vampires here,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but Clio could still hear the hatred in her words.

He could also hear the ragged breaths Mikasa was drawing on the ground behind him, getting shallower and sparser.

He didn’t have time for this. “Commander, please. I promise to explain everything to you as soon as our group members – Mikasa included – have received medical attention.” Clio paused. The woman looked unconvinced, so he decided to offer incentive. “We have a great amount of sensitive information regarding what happened at Maria and what is going on in the outside world. With titans _and_ vampires. We will share everything we know with you. All I ask in return is sanctuary for our group. If you feel unsafe, we will happily agree to be quarantined until you are satisfied that we are not a threat to the citizens of Rose, but please, Commander, we need a doctor _now_.”

She stared at him for a long, unreadable moment as the rain continued to fall, and then she nodded once. “You have a deal.” She motioned to her nearest subordinates. “Ry, Silas, Jax—lead the foreigners inside and lock them in B Ward. You may bring them food and water but make sure they stay put. No one enters the inner gate until I give the all clear. Mason, Dierdre, Cole—escort the wounded to medical. I will find Dr. Arlert.”

The commander left without a backward glance, her men immediately hastening to complete their orders.

Clio motioned for the others to sheath their weapons. "Go with the soldiers and do what they say," he instructed, and then he whirled around and knelt down in front of the Reaper and the vampire, still inwardly reeling at how quickly the day had turned from joyous to tragic in the course of one awful moment.

_We made it. We were safe. This should never have happened._

Clenching his jaw against the onslaught of anger he felt, Clio placed a hand on the captain’s shaking shoulders. “Levi,” he said gently, concealing his own inner turmoil. “Let me take her. Please.”

The Reaper didn’t move. “She’s dead," he rasped.

Clio felt a chill settle in his stomach at the hollowness of Levi’s voice. “She isn’t,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. Vampire hearts didn’t beat like human hearts, so there was no easy way to tell whether Mikasa was still hanging on to life. Judging from how bad she looked, Clio knew it was more than probable that Levi was right, but he clung to the alternative anyway. “Please, Captain, let me take her. You’re wounded. I’ll be able to carry her more easily.”

Reluctantly, Levi released his grip on the vampire and Clio gingerly picked her up. She was dead weight in his arms, and she was unresponsive. Those were bad omens, as was the fact that her blood began to seep into his clothing almost immediately. Clio shifted her slightly and looked down at Levi. “Can you walk?”

The Reaper met his gaze and nodded, his expression harrowed. His face was covered in Mikasa’s blood and wet with rain and tears, the skin beneath white from shock.

“Good,” Clio answered, ignoring the pang of sympathy he felt for the other man. “Get up. You need to come with me to medical. Now.”

Levi stood up, staring at Mikasa’s inert form. “My shoulder will be fine,” he mumbled.

“I’m sure it will,” Clio said through his teeth, exasperated. “Now walk with me. Quickly, dammit!" He added when the Reaper made no move to follow him. "There isn’t much time.” _We might already be too late._

Finally, Levi fell into step beside him, still looking dazed and shocked. “Time?” He repeated listlessly.

Clio hastened his pace. “I have an idea,” he said, gaze focused forward on the open gate before them. “Now rally, Captain. For Mikasa’s sake.”

The shorter man listened, and Clio sped up even more, hoping that maybe, just this once, luck would be on their side.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from my hiding spot* 
> 
> Don't hate me, okay? This is  not the end. I promise. This chapter was heavy, and tbh, I cried while writing a few spots. I don't know if any of you cried while reading, but if you did, just know that I felt the feels, too. 
> 
> On a lighter note: as always, thank you so much for the love and support. All the comments and feedback I received here and on tumblr after last chapter really inspired me to write this one in record (for me, at least) time. As I'm sure any fic author would tell you, every note means the world. So thank you ^u^
> 
> I hope you guys will hang in there with me and not give up on this story. There will be more angst to come (because I'm incapable of _not_ writing angst), but there will also be some lighter, fluffier, smuttier things too.
> 
> Love & Hugs,  
> LW


	19. Faces from the Past

_When the dust settles and the sky clears_

_There still will be you and I_

_Months may pass and years may change_

_But our love will never die._

_-_ Stanza taken from _'Ode to Us'_ _,_ the final recorded work of Sina poet Inigo Black, dated Year 12 B.T.

**

 

“Not you.”

Sasha paused midstep, looking up in surprise at the female soldier standing between her and the gateway the rest of the Maria group was passing through. “Excuse me?” She asked, confused.

The woman gestured to Sasha’s stomach. “You’re pregnant. You need to go to medical.”

Connie had been in line ahead of her, but he turned back once he realized Sasha wasn’t right behind him. “Hey,” he said, throwing a curious glance at her over the soldier’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

The soldier answered without turning to him. “She needs to go to medical. She’ll join you later if the doctor clears her.” She motioned to one of the civilian volunteers that had been giving water and food to the Maria group. “Charlotte will take you,” she told Sasha.

The girl in question came up and gave Sasha a tentative wave. She was young and slender, her long brown hair secured in a braid that trailed down her back. “Come with me, please,” she said.

Sasha gave Connie a parting look and followed after her guide, relieved that the girl wasn’t walking too quickly. It had been a long day and Sasha was lightheaded and exhausted, so the girl’s slow gait was a blessing.

The furtive glances she kept giving her were less of a blessing, however. They made Sasha feel self-conscious. Finally, though, they reached their destination and Charlotte stepped aside, holding the door open so Sasha could pass through. “Here you are,” she said.

Sasha gave her a small smile. “Thanks,” she replied, her smile waning as the girl flinched away from her when she walked by.

 _Geez. Do you I really look that bad?_ She wondered. _I know I haven’t had a proper bath in a long time but it’s not like I’ve sprouted extra limbs made of dirt._

Connie probably would have found that amusing, but Sasha didn’t.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because a nurse came up to her almost immediately. “I’m Ginny,” she said brightly as she escorted Sasha to another room within the facility. “I’m just going to check your vitals and do a few routine tests before the doctor comes to see you.”

Sasha didn’t protest, but as she watched the nurse set about her tasks and saw the way her bright demeanor sobered after each successive part of Sasha’s physical, Sasha began to worry.

“Is there, um, something wrong?” She asked.

Ginny’s bright smile reappeared, though this time it looked more forced than before. “Oh, nothing to worry too much about!” She hastened to assure her. She jotted a few more notes down on her chart and then walked to the door. “Wait here, please,” she requested. “Dr. Arlert will be in shortly.”

When the door closed, Sasha exhaled and leaned back on the examination table. The metal was cold against her back, and the only sound (once the click clack of Ginny’s shoes faded) was the quiet hum of the overhead lights. There was no wind, no crunch of snow, no pitter-patter of rain, no rustling in the distance, no cadence of voices, no sound of nature at all, and its absence was almost unsettling. Even when they’d stayed in the bunkers, it had never been this quiet. Now, though, it was like Rose's walls had muted everything except for the thoughts in Sasha’s head and the artificial thrum of the lights.

Sasha put her hands on her swollen stomach, trying to dispel the loneliness she felt.

“It’s different, huh?” She whispered aloud to her unborn child. “Being inside.” She brushed her hand back and forth across her abdomen as she looked up at the lights above, thinking about how different it was from sunlight.

She sat up hastily when the door opened a few minutes later, but to her surprise, it wasn’t the doctor.

“Jones?” She said as the hybrid closed the door behind him and turned to face her. He looked tired—more tired than she’d ever seen him look, his hazel eye full of weariness.

“Hey, Braus.” There was one visitor’s chair in the room, and Clio sank into it. “I heard you were here. Thought I’d come check on you, see how you were doing.”

Sasha ignored the implied question. “I think you should answer that yourself,” she replied, her brows drawing together in concern. She'd never seen him with so much as a fleck of dirt marring his clothes, but now the dark fabric of his shirt was stained badly, discolored by large, splotchy patches of dried and drying blood. His face was also paler than usual, his human skin nearly a matching shade to his vampire side. “You look like crap,” Sasha said unhappily.

Clio leaned forward on his elbows and sighed. “I feel like crap,” he murmured.

Sasha shifted. “Is Captain Levi here?” She asked tentatively. She hadn’t seen the Reaper since…

“He’s here,” the hybrid answered. “So is Mikasa.”

 _Mikasa._ Tears sprang to Sasha’s eyes as the events from the previous day replayed in her head. She’d been with the others, shouting ecstatic nonsense at Rose’s wall when she’d seen the arrow go flying above their heads. And then when she had turned around…

Sasha would never forget the look of shock on Mikasa’s face as the vampire had crumpled into the mud.

“She deserved better,” Sasha said aloud, blinking her tears away. “So much better.” She looked over at Clio. “I saw you carry her inside. Is she…?”

Clio shook his head. “It’s hard to say, but it doesn’t look good. I had an idea, something I thought might make a difference, but she’s—she’s unresponsive.” He put his head in his hands. “Today should have been a joyful day, but instead…” He sighed. “God, what a mess.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t really an appropriate answer, and Sasha wished that she could have thought of something better to say, but she couldn’t. ‘Mess’ pretty much summed it up.

Suddenly, Clio looked towards the door.

It opened a few moments later, revealing the nurse who had been there before. She stepped into the room and then openly gaped when she caught sight of Sasha’s visitor. She retreated a pace, and Sasha saw the hurt register on Clio’s face a split second before he bowed his head.

It made her want to slap the smile off the nurse’s pretty face.

“I apologize,” the nurse said, “but Dr. Arlert will not be able to see you today after all.” She walked over – widely avoiding Clio – and handed Sasha a small piece of paper. “This pass needs to go to Commander Ramirez. You can give it to one of the soldiers. And this one—” she handed Sasha a second slip “—is for tomorrow, so you won’t have any trouble being readmitted to medical. There’s been some rule-tightening lately, so we have to keep everything very official.”

Sasha climbed down from the metal examination table. “Okay.”

“Did Dr. Arlert say why he wouldn’t be able to see Sasha today?” Clio interjected.

The nurse blinked a few times, as if she were surprised that Clio was speaking. “Um, well, yes,” she managed. “He is tending to other patients and is in the middle of a delicate procedure that couldn’t be interrupted.”

A spark of something dangerously close to hope appeared in Clio’s human eye. “By ‘other patients’ I take it you are referring to my two companions?”

The nurse frowned but offered a nod of affirmation, and then she walked over and opened the door, holding it open and looking very eager to disengage from the conversation. “They’re preparing a welcome dinner for the other Maria guests in the dining hall,” she said, addressing Sasha. “You are welcome to join them. Charlotte—the girl you met earlier? She will show you the way.”

Sasha wasn’t about to abandon Clio. “I’m sure my friend is hungry, too,” she said.

The nurse’s kind mien seemed to falter. “Oh, well, I’m sure that would—”

“Actually, Braus, I’m gonna hang here,” Clio cut in. “See if Dr. Arlert needs any assistance.” He gave her a small smile. “But save me a slice of cake if they have it, okay?”

It was a joke completely lost on the nurse, but it made Sasha smile. She remembered the early days of their friendship, the ‘cake day’ visits she used to make to him when he’d been holed up in Maria’s basement. The formidable hybrid had had quite the sweet tooth.

The fact that Clio was making a joke about it now meant that he was feeling better, which could only really mean one thing: not all hope was lost after all.

Her own worries falling by the wayside, Sasha gave Clio a quick side-hug. “I’ll be back later with your cake,” she said. She gave him a pointed look when she pulled away. “In exchange for answers and updates.”

Clio gave her a mock salute and then Sasha followed the nurse out of the room.

When they were almost back by the entrance to the medical facility, the nurse leaned towards her. “I can’t believe you traveled with that man and the vampire for so long,” she whispered. “Weren’t you scared?”

Sasha stopped. “Actually, Mikasa and Clio are two of the reasons I _wasn’t_ scared,” she answered, anger coloring her voice. “They’re also the reasons that me and the other Maria survivors made it here.”

The nurse seemed taken aback by her tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” Sasha exhaled, trying to curb her emotions. “Listen, I know they may not look like you and me, but that doesn’t matter. They’re heroes, and Clio and Mikasa deserve acceptance just as much as every other Maria survivor.”

The nurse looked far from convinced, but Sasha was too tired to try and talk some sense into her, and her stomach had been rumbling ever since the first mention of food. “Just…be nice to him, okay?” She said, and then she walked over to where Charlotte was waiting for her. The girl was still regarding her with the same wariness she'd displayed earlier, and Sasha wondered, as she fell into silent step behind the volunteer, if this was what it felt like to walk a day in Clio's shoes.

 

**

The head hadn’t started to rot yet, but that could be attributed to the cold. Bodies – and parts of bodies – kept better in the lower temperatures.

Sextus put a foot on the severed head and rolled it facedown. He didn’t want to look at the mangled features or the bloody eye sockets if he didn’t have to; unlike many of his brethren, he found the sight of death repugnant.

Feeling uneasy, Sextus moved toward the remnants of the small fire in the center of the clearing. It had burned down to nothing but charred logs and ash, cutting out a circle of mud on the otherwise snowy ground. A few yards away were the only tracks he could find—multiple prints scuffed in haphazard lines and circles, most likely the signs of a struggle. There were drag marks in the snow leading out from the chaotic scene, but they disappeared abruptly a few steps later. Sextus could almost make out two sets of footprints leading away from that point, but new snowfall made it impossible to say for sure. Aside from the severed head and the fact that Bruzo was missing, what had happened here remained a mystery.

“Sir.”

Sextus turned to see one of his underlings approaching, a hunchbacked creature missing one eye. Everyone in the regiment had started calling him Cyclops, and Sextus had long since forgotten the titan’s real name.

“We found the body,” Cyclops rasped, gesturing over to the right. “In the woods.”

Well, heads had to have bodies somewhere, Sextus supposed. Why the human had been out here - days from shelter - wasn’t clear, but at least the head was no longer a mystery. Bruzo had a taste for decapitation.

“And Bruzo?” Sextus inquired.

The underling shook its head. “No sign.”

Sextus pondered that, once more looking at the remains of the camp. It was a strange location to make camp, and it seemed almost deliberately exposed.

_The humans are up to something._

Quintus had alluded to as much in the note he had sent. Apparently, an eyewitness had seen a hunter and vampire fighting together shortly after Commander Demetrius’ camp had been wiped out. Quintus had gone to speak with Primus about it, which meant that it was serious. No one bothered Primus unless it was absolutely necessary.

With a jerk of his clawed hand, Sextus motioned for his underlings to head back to camp. They obeyed immediately. Sextus followed, intentionally lagging behind them a bit as he contemplated all of the recent happenings.

First, survivors from the Maria fortress had caused problems for multiple raiding parties sent to deal with them, including the group led by Duro, who had been quite the formidable leader until his broken body had been discovered on the sheerer side of a cliff face. Then there had been the explosions and the decimation of Demetrius’ entire camp, including Demetrius himself at the hands of a creature some were calling the Two-Faced Demon. Then the rumors of a vampire and a hunter working as allies, and now this: a potential trap laid by humans, with no clues as to what had happened except a decapitated man and one missing superior.

Something was brewing—that much Sextus was sure of. Titans of the caliber of Duro, Demetrius, and Bruzo didn’t just get killed and they didn’t just go missing. If the humans had been able to get the better of them, it meant that humankind was getting organized and strengthening their offense. Maybe they knew more than he, Quintus, and the rest of The Seven had given them credit for.

 _We adapt faster than the humans do,_ Primus had said once, but maybe he was wrong. If the humans had been shaken badly enough after the attack on their fortress, maybe they had begun to do some adapting of their own. Why else would a vampire and hunter ever find themselves fighting on the same side?

Regardless of whether any of Sextus’ speculations were correct, the amount of evidence spoke for itself: the humans were up to something, and it couldn’t be explained away by simple coincidence.

When Sextus returned to camp, he called for Cyclops.

The hunchback shuffled over to him, waiting attentively for his orders.

“Get me parchment and a raven,” Sextus commanded.

Primus was too far away for Sextus to go to him directly as Quintus had, but he would still send word about Bruzo and the strange scene in the woods. As their leader, Primus had a right to know about any and all suspicious activity.

And in addition to making Primus aware of what had happened near Sextus’ camp, Sextus would also suggest that they move up their timetable for the second large-scale attack.

The sooner another fortress had fallen, the better.

 

**

As far as welcomes went, the dinner they were having in Rose’s main dining hall was among the more subdued ones. It was their second night in the fortress (but first official night there, since they’d been penned up in B Ward waiting to get clearance into the main fortress the night before), and no one aside from the fourteen of them was there to celebrate with them—not that much celebrating was going on. It should have been an evening filled with laughter and conversation and reunions, but instead it felt like everyone was holding their collective breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 _Or like everyone’s waiting to hear that that doctors couldn’t help Mikasa,_ Jean thought more accurately.

He hadn’t seen her go down. He’d been with the others, pressed up against Rose’s walls and cheering like an imbecile, oblivious to the drama playing out behind him. It wasn’t until Clio had turned back and shouted for attention that he’d realized something was amiss.

That was when the celebration had ended for Jean and all the rest of them. The perks of being once again inside of a fortress—showers, soap, fresh clothes that didn’t have holes and actually fit, beds with real pillows…it was all great, it really was, but Jean couldn’t help but feel hollow inside. All seventeen of them should have been enjoying Rose’s comforts, and all seventeen of them should have been here now, sitting around a table and sharing food. But they weren’t.

The cook and her assistants were pleasant enough when they brought out the food for Jean and the rest of the Maria group, but Jean wasn’t the only one who had a hard time smiling and thanking the Rose crew for their hospitality.

Their appetites got the better of them, though, and pretty soon most of them were tucking into their plates with gusto. Aside from the sounds of forks and knives and chewing, though, everyone stayed quiet.

Until Ed took a second helping of stew and Ymir said, “Seriously?”

Ed, as always, was unfazed by the judgment in her tone. He shrugged. “I’m hungry,” he stated simply.

Ymir had been poking at her food with the fork she was clutching somewhat awkwardly in her left hand, but at that she put the utensil down and closed her hand into a fist on the table. “Well, think with something other than your stomach,” she snapped. “This whole thing is bullshit.”

Jean swallowed the bite in his mouth and frowned. “I know this isn’t how we expected it to be when we got to Rose, but they’re trying—”

“To what?” Ymir cut in. “First they shoot Fangs, then they pen us up like cattle for hours on end and grill us with questions like we’re fucking terrorists—”

“Ymir,” Jillian scolded softly, her eyes darting over to the kitchen.

“No. Don’t ‘Ymir’ me. I don’t care if they hear. They shot one of us, locked the rest of us in what was basically a holding cell, and then, when they finally let us out, we’re not allowed to see our friends and family who live here because of some fucking _curfew_?” She snorted. “Yeah. They’re trying. Trying to make us wish we’d gone to Sina instead.”

“The rules aren’t everyone’s fault, though,” Lyle said.

“Yeah,” his sister chimed in. “I’m sure our cousins want to see us just as much as we want to see them—just as much as I’m sure all of your families want to see all of you, but people like us don’t make the rules.”

“We had to put up with annoying rules at Maria, too,” Lyle finished as he slurped up a spoonful of stew. “Maybe you’ve just forgotten, Ymir.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t forgotten.” Finally, she lowered her voice. “But you guys have to admit this is above and beyond the usual bullshit,” she said. “We didn’t have a curfew at Rose, and there definitely weren’t as many restrictions about where we could go and when we could go there.”

Jean found himself agreeing. They’d been in Rose less than forty-eight hours, but it was obvious that Governor Reiss kept everyone on a much tighter leash than Carter had at Maria. That alone certainly begged the question of _why,_ but it wasn’t fair for Ymir to lash out in as general a manner as she was doing.

“Lucy has a point, though,” he voiced. “People don’t make the rules, Ymir.”

Ymir didn’t respond, just flashed him a look of irritation that he’d seen many times before.

_New place, same old Ymir._

He was about to make a snide comment about it when one of the little kitchen girls came tiptoeing up to the table. She was gripping a small piece of paper and she looked spooked, which wasn’t surprising given that Ymir was still fuming, her silent anger radiating off of her in waves.

Jean cleared his throat. “Ymir,” he said, inclining her head. “I, uh, think she needs to talk to you.”

The ‘ _who?’_ died on Ymir’s lips as she swiveled around on the bench and saw the young girl. “Oh,” she said instead.

The girl held out the paper. “Ms. Reiss asked me to give you this,” she said in a rushed squeak.

It was like someone had flipped a switch on the brunette’s emotions. Ymir snagged the paper, her eyes widening, all of her anger gone in an instant.

And Jean knew why. He’d never personally met Historia Reiss, but Ymir had mentioned her a handful of times. She hadn’t said much, of course, because Ymir never said anything intentionally substantive about herself, but what she _had_ shared was enough for Jean to realize that Ymir loved the girl in a way she didn’t love anybody else.

Ymir stared at the paper in her hand, reading silently, and then she pushed her chair back and stood up. “Excuse me,” she said distractedly, not really looking at any of them, and then, without another word, she walked out of the dining hall.

Everyone stared after her, but only Ed lacked the discretion to keep his mouth shut. “What was that about?” He asked. “Who is Ms. Reiss?”

“She’s the reason Ymir wanted to make it here,” Jean answered. He thought of his mother, wondering if she knew he was at Rose, wondering if she knew he was alive at all, wondering if he’d be able to find her tomorrow when Rose’s morning curfew ended. “We all have people like that,” he added softly.

“I don’t.”

It was the first time Cody Ral had spoken at the table—the first time she’d really spoken at all since they’d gotten to Rose, and the somberness in her eyes made Jean sad. “You’ve got us, though,” he offered with a smile, trying to cheer her up. “And Clio.”

The little girl's expression didn't soften. “Maybe,” she said. “But they shot Mikasa and I haven’t seen Clio since we got here.” She set her utensils down on her empty plate and stood up, fixing Jean with a knowing stare that was much too wise for a six-year-old. “They don’t really want us here,” she said. “Not all of us. They’re going to break up our family.”

She walked away before Jean or anyone else could say anything, and after a moment, Jillian gave a tired sigh and put her spoon down in her nearly finished bowl of stew. “I’ll go after her,” she said. She stood up, and Jean could hear her joints popping in protest from across the table. “The rest of you: _behave_. We are guests here, and we don’t need to stir up more trouble than there already is.”

 _Here, here,_ Jean thought sarcastically. _Everybody raise a glass. That’s some toast-worthy advice right there._

Silence reigned again after Jillian’s departure, and aside from Connie and Sasha inquiring about dessert, everyone’s appetites seemed to wane after that point, too. Even Ed’s.

As everyone shuffled off to bed, Jean walked by the kitchen and thanked the cook, and then he headed back to the temporary room he’d been assigned, pondering Cody Ral’s parting comment.

_They’re going to break up our family._

He could have dismissed her words away as a six-year-old’s illogical fear, but Jean knew there was truth in what she’d said.

It made him think that maybe they weren’t out of danger yet, and _that_ made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

 _Our fight’s not over yet,_ he realized with a sinking feeling. _M_ _aybe it never will be._

 

**

Charlotte watched as the Maria survivors shuffled out of the dining hall, her eyes following after them even as Marge the Barge started scolding her.

“Get a move on, children!” She was hollering. “Those dirty dishes aren’t going to clear themselves!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes (although she waited until she was facing away from the Barge to do it) and grabbed her friend Nancy by the hand. “C’mon,” she mumbled. “We’d better do as we’re told.”

Marge might have weighed close to fifteen stone (hence the name everyone called her behind her back) but the woman could move like a cat when she wanted to, and Charlotte had gotten smacked in the ears enough times to realize that it was in her best interest listen to the fat lady’s directions the first time she spoke them.

Still, it was hard not to stand around dumbly and gawk at the new arrivals. In Charlotte’s twelve years, she’d never seen anything quite like them.

“Did you see how skinny they all were?” Nancy asked as they began to stack the dirty dishes into piles.

Charlotte nodded. Even the biggest man at the table had been too thin to fill out his clothes, and some of the others looked like skin and bones. The oldest woman’s eyes had been so sunken in her face that she’d looked like a corpse someone had dug up and dressed.

“And the way they _ate_ ,” Nancy went on. “It was like they’d never seen food before.”

“Well,” Charlotte reasoned as she straightened her stack and picked it up, “they were out in the wild for six months. I doubt they had any proper food.”

Laden with the first set of dishes, Charlotte headed back to the kitchen and Nancy fell into step beside her.

“It makes you wonder how they survived, doesn’t it?” Nancy whispered conspiratorially. “Do you think they ever…ever ate people?”

Charlotte made a face. “Ew, Nancy, that’s gross.”

Her friend shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. I read in one of the history books in school about this family that ate the youngest kid during a cold winter so that the rest of them wouldn’t starve.”

“You did _not_ read that in a history book.”

“Fine,” Nancy huffed. “But I heard it from Old Jim, and he’s like a walking history book so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

They set their stacks of dishes down on the counter as Marge the Barge stared on disapprovingly, and then they scurried back out into the dining hall.

“You took one of them to medical, didn’t you?” Nancy asked.

Charlotte thought of the pregnant woman. “Yeah. I was there when they got let in, too,” she added.

Nancy’s eyes widened. “Really?” She breathed. “Then spill! I want details.”

“Well, they were kind of…um, they kind of scared me,” Charlotte admitted. “They had so many weapons with them and some of their clothes were bloody and…” She shuddered. “There was even a girl younger than us, and _she_ had a knife. They didn’t just look like survivors, they looked like…like killers.”

Nancy seemed to process that as she stacked the glasses together. “They probably _are_ killers,” she finally said. “Otherwise they would’ve died. Mamma says it's kill or be killed outside the walls, and that's why we need to stay inside.”

Charlotte was about to reply when one of the serving platters fell from her hands and clattered to the floor.

Quick as a cat, Marge the Barge’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Careful!” She yelled at them. “If either of you girls breaks anything, I will tan your backsides, do ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both muttered.

Charlotte didn’t drop anything else, and she and Nancy worked in silence for a while until they were sure Marge the Barge was no longer monitoring them.

“So,” Nancy said under her breath as they began to wipe down the table with rags, “did you get to see the vampire?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No,” she said, and she was glad of it. She’d never seen a vampire, and she didn’t want to. “I was helping out in B Ward, but they took the vampire straight to medical. I didn’t see her or the Reaper, but I heard the others talking about them.”

“What about the two-faced man?”

“I didn’t see him, either.”

Nancy pouted. “Too bad,” she said. Then her face lit up. “Hey—what if we snuck out later and took a peek in medical? Everyone is dying to hear details and we’d be super popular if we had some.”

“Are you kidding?” Charlotte whispered back. “If we break curfew, we’ll get in trouble. The Police would catch us and take us to Commander Ramirez or Governor Reiss or something, and we’d lose even more privileges.” _Or something worse would happen._

“Only if we get caught.”

“We _will_ get caught. We can’t even get away with stuff in front of the Barge.”

Nancy let out a huff. “ _Fine_ ,” she said, elongating the word into a sigh of exasperation. “You’re no fun, Charlotte.”

Maybe she wasn’t, but Charlotte had heard rumors about what happened to people who broke curfew, and she didn’t want to find out firsthand if they were true. “Sorry,” she said to her friend. “I just don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Whatever.”

An idea occurred to Charlotte. “You know…you could always ask Taylor to go take a look for you.”

Nancy’s cheeks turned bright red just as Charlotte knew they would. “I could not.”

“You could. Taylor likes you. He’d go if you asked.”

“Maybe,” Nancy said noncommittally, and the girls finished wiping down the table in silence until Nancy changed the subject. “Hey,” she began, “what was that note all about? The one the governor’s daughter gave you?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Dunno. Ms. Reiss didn’t say. She just asked me to do her a favor and pass the note along to that one-armed woman.”

Nancy twisted her rag out, letting the dirty water fall into the bucket. “Hmm. What do you think it said?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Nancy placed the rag on her shoulder when it was no longer dripping and stood up, grabbing the bucket in her free hand. “Maybe she was asking the one-armed lady to kill her father,” she hypothesized.

Charlotte froze. “Why would you say something like that?” She asked, appalled by the idea.

Her friend shrugged. “Everyone knows that Governor Reiss and his daughter don’t get along—that’s what Mamma says. She also says that there are a lot of people who think Historia would make a better governor than her father.”

Charlotte grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her close, the water sloshing in the bucket as she did. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered firmly. “If anyone hears you or your mom talking like that, you’ll be turned out.”

Nancy smiled in a way that made Charlotte’s stomach twist into knots. “Only while Governor Reiss is in charge,” she whispered back, and then she pulled out of Charlotte’s grip and carried her bucket back to the kitchen.

Charlotte stood there, staring after her friend in stunned silence until she heard Marge the Barge hollering at her to hurry up, and then, not wanting to get her ears boxed in or earn a spanking, she pushed the conversation with Nancy to the back of her mind and did as she was told.

 

**

Kai Ramirez left the Police’s private gym well past midnight. She was soaked through, her clothes clinging to her trim frame as though she’d been standing out in the rain. In reality, of course, she hadn’t felt rain on her skin in nearly six years; her clothes were drenched because of the sheer brutality of her workout.

Kai had a reputation for pushing herself harder than her soldiers, for maintaining a level of fitness that was daunting to everyone else, but even by her standards, tonight she’d pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion.

She’d needed to, after listening to hours of first-hand accounts from the Maria survivors. Their stories were incredible, admirable in many ways, but certain parts…

Not wanting to think about it just then, Kai headed for the communal showers, hoping that a quick soak would clear her head. She stripped, leaving her wet clothes in a pile on the floor and stepping beneath the cold spray. There was hot water available in Rose, but Kai never used it. She liked the clarity she found in the cold water.

Tonight, though, she found no peace, and finally, when the suds from her soap had disappeared down the drain and she was a rash of goosebumps from head to toe, she turned off the water and toweled herself dry.

She stopped briefly in the laundry facility to dump her clothes, and then she donned a pair of drawstring black pants and a black tank top before wandering towards the dining facility.

Governor Reiss had started enforcing curfew for the citizens weeks ago, but Kai – along with a few select personnel – were exempt. Kai had no idea how long that freedom would last, but tonight she aimed to indulge in it.

There was no one in the kitchen this late, so she went about heating water for herself and brewed a cup of tea, eschewing her normal choice of black tea in favor of a weaker green. When it was ready, she wandered into the dining hall, intending to enjoy the unusual solitude of the large space.

To her immense surprise, however, there was someone already there.

Kai paused only for an infinitesimal moment, taking in the familiar stranger’s dissimilar features before she kept walking and sat down at the end of a long table.

She put her mug of tea down in front of her, watching the steam curl into the darkness of the high ceiling above. She hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, so the only illumination in the large room came from the faint glow of the kitchen lights she’d left on.

“Technically,” she said, eyes still on her tea, “civilians aren’t supposed to be wandering around at this time of night.”

The man walked towards the table Kai was sitting at and shrugged. “Well, good think I’m not _technically_ a civilian, then.”

Kai looked up at him, noting the way the pale half of his face seemed almost translucent in the dim lighting. “Or technically human,” she added, remembering the fangs he'd sported the day before. Gossip had already spread through Rose about the katana wielding stranger with the alien face, fearful whispers that had put even Rose's staunchest men on edge.

Kai, however, was unaffected by such inane chatter. She knew the man's real identity, knew the things he'd done in service to humanity, and even the jarring change in his appearance didn't rouse her fear. Actions mattered much more than appearance to her—always had, always would.

“True.” Clio Jones gestured to the bench opposite her. “May I?”

Kai inclined her head and took a sip of her tea. The flavor was so distasteful to her that she almost didn’t swallow. But it was still better than drinking black tea— _his_ tea of choice.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay in medical today,” the hybrid said when he was seated. “I assume you’ve talked with everyone else?”

Kai nodded. “Everyone except for you and the Reaper.” Her lips twisted. “And _it._ ”

“So you know our story.”

“Yes.” She took another unsatisfying sip of tea. “I’ve heard your story. I know how the sixteen of you fought and struggled to survive over the past six months. I know what you’ve lost. And I know that all fourteen of the civilians and soldiers who arrived here today looks to you with respect and admiration.” She paused. “As do I, Lieutenant Jones. The fact that you managed to keep those people safe under such horrifying conditions for so long…you are a testament to a breed of soldier not often seen.”

The hybrid smiled. “No one’s called me _Lieutenant_ in a long time,” he said. “It sounds strange, now.” He arched a brow. “How did you know about my rank? None of the Maria group knows, so I know you didn’t hear it from them.”

Kai traced a finger across the rim of her mug. “I remember you from the Legion days.” She hadn't recognized him immediately when she'd met him and the others beyond Rose's walls, but as soon as one of the civilians had mentioned the name Clio she'd known who he was.

The man's mismatched eyes trailed over her. “Really?” He said dubiously. “Pardon my saying so, Commander, but you seem much too young to have been in the Legion when I was a member.”

“I was a trainee at the time, but my older siblings were already fully-fledged hunters. They mentioned the Wraith on more than one occasion.”

It wasn't a lie; everyone had talked about the Wraith in the years before the vaccine. He'd been the source of wild gossip in the Legion—more so than even the Elite Five. And Kai remembered the way people had whispered about him, too. Hunters had either wanted him, wanted to be him, or feared him. Personally, Kai had always admired him. After all, anyone who was strong enough to complete solo mission after solo mission was someone who deserved respect. 

“Ramirez...” The name rolled off his tongue in a pensive manner. “Were your siblings—?”

“Gone, now, like so many others,” Kai interjected quickly.

“I see,” Jones replied. He didn’t ask any of the follow-up questions that people usually asked. Maybe he remembered the other Ramirez soldiers and what had happened to them. Or maybe he was just perceptive enough to realize that it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss.

Either way, she was grateful.

“May I ask you something, Commander?” The hybrid asked after the silence between them had stretched on for some countless amount of minutes.

Kai lifted a brow expectantly.

“Now that you’ve heard the truth of our journey from fourteen separate sources, why do you still refer to Mikasa as an ‘it’?”

Kai clenched her teeth together so tightly she was sure her jaw would snap. “I will never view a vampire as anything other than an it,” she said. “And neither will the rest of Rose.”

“Mikasa was integral to our survival. Without her, very few of us – and possibly none of us – would be here.”

Kai could see the truth of it in his hazel eye, but it didn’t soften her opinion. Nothing ever would. “Maybe so,” she replied tersely, “but that does not change the fact that your _Mikasa_ is a vampire.”

“So am I, to a certain extent.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” He challenged.

“No.” Kai pushed her mug away and stood up, tossing her still-damp hair over her shoulder. “And if you try and liken the two of you in order to gain clemency and asylum for the vampire, as I am guessing you are intending to do should she survive, I promise you that you will only succeed in convincing the council and the people of Rose that _both_ of you should be turned out.” She pursed her lips. “I intend to speak on your behalf should the council question your humanity, but I will not be able to sway them if you insist on pointing out parallels and similarities between you and your vampire.”

Jones frowned up at her. “I'm grateful that you would speak on my behalf, Commander, and saddened by the fact that you think it might be necessary to do so, but please, answer me this: if you intend to do nothing to help Mikasa, why did you allow us to bring her inside the walls in the first place?”

“I honor my agreements, Lieutenant. You asked that she receive medical attention, and I acquiesced. What happens subsequently was not part of our spoken deal.”

“Will you at least speak with her when she wakes up?” The hybrid asked. “Mikasa deserves your time.”

“And if she lives, she will get it,” Kai replied. “At the trial.”

The hybrid’s voice sharpened. “The trial?”

Kai could see the disbelief on the man’s strange face, could see him trying to figure out why someone he esteemed as a hero would have to face a tribunal. She understood his perspective, to a certain extent; he’d been in the outside world for half a year, where nothing mattered except his group’s collective will to survive.

But the focus in Rose was different, and things besides survival _did_ matter.

“If you alter your perspective, Lieutenant, you'll realize that life inside the walls is very different than life outside of them. Rose has been an enclosed society for nearly six years—an enclosed _human_ society. Your vampire may have served a purpose in open territory, but here, its presence will only cause upheaval. A trial, should the vampire survive, will be inevitable—as inevitable as its outcome,” she added with dark gravitas.

“You can’t know that for sure, Commander,” the hybrid argued. “People can change, can show acceptance where there previously wasn’t any. Our group is proof of that.”

“What your group proved,” Kai countered, “is that people fighting for their lives are willing to be open-minded if it will help their odds of survival. Nothing more.” She grabbed her tea and started towards the kitchen, but even though she knew she ought to leave, the question that had been burning inside of her all day got the better of her.

She turned back. “Is it true,” she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral, “what everyone is saying—that the vampire and the Reaper are…close?”

The hybrid regarded her curiously. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “Why do you ask?”

Kai gripped the handle of the mug so hard she thought it would break. “Idle curiosity,” she said, and then, her anger a full-blown hurricane inside of her, she left her mug in the kitchen, told the hybrid to turn off the lights when he left, and headed back to the gym.

 

**

It was cold in the medical facility, cold in a way that made Levi acutely aware of each of his chilled limbs, but it was nothing compared to the cold he’d experienced on the journey west. That had been bone-numbing cold, the kind that seeped into your clothes and your skin and settled in your bloodstream until you were more frozen than liquid inside, the kind of cold that made your fingers and toes painfully stiff and so icy that they burned. The cold here, however, was manageable, and it didn’t compare to the coldness Levi felt in his heart as he stared at Mikasa’s still, pale form.

She was alive, at least, thanks to the determination of the blond doctor named Dr. Arlert and the creativity of Clio Jones. If Mikasa pulled through – and it was still a big if – Levi would never be able to thank those two men enough, especially Clio. The hybrid’s idea had been ingenious.

Levi looked at the side table, where Mikasa’s heart was connected to an IV of his blood. It was such a small thing, so fragile and strange, nothing at all like the hearts that resided in human chests. It resembled a kind of medium-sized, oval nut with a diaphanous, fine skin stretched over it, and it was glowing softly amidst its nestled spot in the dirt they’d saved from Mikasa’s ruined pouch. Levi had never seen anything like it, but it was almost beautiful, in a strange, alien way. The only thing disrupting its beauty was the IV feeding Levi’s blood into its center, into the area the arrow had pierced. He watched the blood drip down, as he had been doing for hours, marveling at how little he really knew of Mikasa’s nature.

If she survived, he would get to know her better. He vowed it.

 _Please, Mikasa,_ he silently pleaded for the countless time that day. _Please survive._

But the vampire remained silent, and so did their blood bond.

It was strange, really; ever since the bond had been formed, Levi had _felt_ Mikasa, in a way, and yet he'd never been crowded by her presence, by the way he could sense her at the fringes of his awareness. She was simply there, a piece of him, fused to his very cells and as necessary as bone and blood.

It made her absence now all the more painful, all the more felt.

“…Levi?”

The voice stirred him, a voice that was as familiar as it was unforgettable. Levi turned in his chair, straightening up. “Hello, Erwin,” he said quietly.

The blond man looked older than Levi remembered, his hair gone grey at the temples and his athletic figure slightly thinner than it had been during the glory days, but the intensity of his eyes hadn’t dulled, and right now they were filled with a mixture of warmness and concern. “Dr. Arlert wasn’t joking,” Erwin commented, his thick eyebrows drawing together as he looked Levi up and down. “You’re in bad shape.”

 _Not as bad as the shape Mikasa’s in,_ Levi thought, but he didn’t say it. “I’ve been worse,” he answered instead.

Erwin chuckled. “And better.” He smiled, fine lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Levi,” he said fondly. “When I heard about Maria, I feared the worst, but when I found out that survivors had arrived on our doorstep, I knew you’d be one of them.”

“Did you?” Levi asked dryly. “Well, Kenny always said I was like a cockroach,” he added. “Small and hard to kill.”

Erwin's gaze turned inquisitive. “Your uncle…?”

Levi knew what he was asking. “Dead,” he said. _Dead like everyone else._ “He bought us the time we needed to get out of Maria during the attack.”

Erwin sighed. “I’m sorry, Levi. Truly.”

“Yeah.”

Finally, Erwin addressed the elephant in the room. “So this is the vampire?” He said.

“Mikasa,” Levi supplied. “She’s one of the only reasons we made it here, and now…”

“Don’t lose hope, Levi. Dr. Arlert seems optimistic, despite having never done a procedure like this before, and I trust his word. Armin is a brilliant scientist and a reliable physician.”

“Maybe, but she was dead, Erwin. All of this is just…” He waved his hands at the wires, needles, and monitors affixed to Mikasa and her heart. “Complicated guesswork.”

Erwin was quiet for a moment. “I heard you threw yourself in front of her,” he said at length.

There was a question in his statement – there always was when it came to Erwin – and Levi decided not to be evasive. After all, on the wild chance that Mikasa did pull through, he’d have to tell Erwin everything anyway to ensure that he would speak on Mikasa’s behalf.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I did. And if I could’ve taken the arrow that did this to her as well, I would have. She deserves to live.” He swallowed against the huskiness in his voice. “She…she’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, Erwin.”

“One of the most amazing _vampires,_ perhaps,” Erwin amended.

Levi shrugged. “Semantics.”

Erwin regarded him with thinly veiled surprise. “That’s quite something, coming from a Reaper.” His gaze moved to Mikasa’s inert form. “I hope she pulls through, too,” he said. “Anyone that is special enough to earn your trust is someone I’d like to know.”

Levi frowned. “I trust people.”

“You trust _select_ people,” Erwin insisted. “It took you years to warm up to me, and I always had your best interest at heart.”

Levi gave his tall friend a look. “You were a manipulative bastard then, and you still are. You’re lucky I put up with your shit.”

The smile reappeared on Erwin’s face. “I suppose I am.” He placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “Eventually, I want to hear your story, but right now, I am here as a messenger on Dr. Arlert’s behalf. He said you’ve been here since your arrival and that you’ve refused to eat or leave the vampire’s side. I understand your concern, but Levi, you need to take care of yourself too. I meant what I said—you’re in bad shape.”

Levi shrugged his hand away. “I’ll be fine.”

“With food and sleep, I agree with that statement.”

“Erwin—”

“Would it help,” the blond man cut in, “if I told you that I would personally stay here while you took a break? I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “You’d…you’d do that?” He asked. “Without knowing her?”

Erwin’s gaze was resolute. “If you trust her, then I trust her, Levi. Some things don’t change.”

Gratitude wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the sensation of relief that coursed through Levi’s cold, stiff body at Erwin’s words. He’d been afraid to leave Mikasa’s side, afraid to leave her alone, worried that she would either take a turn for the worse while no one was there or that someone would come and try to harm her. There were too many people who knew about her already, and too many people with reasons to seek vengeance against a vampire. Erwin himself was one such person, but Levi trusted him; if Erwin said that he would watch over her, Levi believed him.

He stood up, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through his legs. “All right,” he said. “I…I’ll be back soon.”

Erwin nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.” Levi took one last, lingering look at Mikasa, pushing out through their bond again, but still, there was nothing but silence.

“Go, Levi,” Erwin urged gently. “She won’t die on my watch.”

Reluctantly, Levi nodded. “Aye, Erwin,” he mumbled, and then he headed for the door.

Unlike being outside, it was hard to tell what time of day it was inside of Rose. There were lights on all the time, buzzing dully overhead, and there was no change in temperature from day to night. Still, as Levi found himself wandering the halls in search of the temporary quarters Dr. Arlert had assigned him earlier that day, Levi had a suspicion it was either very late or very early. The corridors were deserted, and no voices echoed down the halls ahead or behind him.

The loneliness afforded Levi too much time to think, and nearly all of his thoughts were of regrets, losses, and the vampire he hadn’t realized he’d loved until the arrow had pierced her heart.

_Too little too late._

Everything he loved turned to ashes and dust.

The layout of Rose was much different than the layout of Maria, and Levi realized very quickly that he should have asked Erwin for directions. He took more wrong turns than right ones, and before long, he was ready to kick a wall and give up. But then he heard footsteps.

_Fucking finally._

Hopefully, whoever it was would be able to point him in the right direction, or at least point him back to medical. Maybe he’d been wandering around long enough that Erwin would believe he’d taken a nap and gotten something to eat.

Hurrying his steps so as not to miss the other person, Levi rounded a bend in the hallway. It opened into a much larger corridor—its width indicative of a main thoroughfare, and as Levi stepped forward, two things happened in quick succession.

First, he felt Mikasa open her eyes.

Second, his own heart nearly stopped.

There was indeed someone in the corridor, headed away from him, but it was a mirage, a lie, an impossibility, because Levi knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that the person he was looking at was dead. He’d never seen her body, had never had that final bit of closure, but the stories and evidence and Kenny’s word had been proof enough of her death, which meant that the being in front of him now could be nothing more than a ghost.

And yet the ghost walking away from him looked solid and real, and Levi could hear the thud of her boots on the ground with each step she took.

_It’s impossible. It’s not her. It’s not._

But she’d always been unmistakable—striking in a formidable way, from the way she wore her hair to the way she walked, and Levi felt his throat constricting with every passing second and with every step she took away from him.

Swallowing against seven years of grief and loss and repressed emotions, Levi found his voice just as the woman reached the end of the hall.

“Jocelyn?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drama escalates...
> 
> I'd say I'm sorry about that cliffhanger, but I'm not. ~~(Please don't hate me, though.)~~
> 
>  
> 
> Side note: I'm fairly certain this chapter contains the least amount of 'fucks' in the entire story. I realize that's not important in any way, but it was just an observation I had while editing this and I thought I'd share. 
> 
> Anyway...thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the update! :)


	20. New Beginnings

_Sometimes fresh starts blossom from rebirth and rejuvenation. Other times, fresh starts only bloom from the ashes of what came before. Never forget that for a new dawn to rise, an old age must pass away._

\- Reflection taken from Selene Wyatt's book _Eugenics: Humanity's Way Forward_ , dated Year 5 B.T.

**

 

Commander Kai Ramirez finally decided that she needed to call it a night. Her body was exhausted, and after Cole had come to talk business with her when she was leaving the Police showers for the second time that night, she was mentally drained, too. Cole was a reliable but needy soldier who usually reported to Brianne, but seeing as Brianne wasn’t in Rose at present, he’d taken it upon himself to report to Kai. He’d prattled on for a stream of endless minutes about minutiae that didn’t really interest her, and then he’d asked, as he’d been doing daily, when Brianne was coming back from medical leave. Having to repeatedly lie was bad enough, but Kai’s worry over her missing subordinates was worse. Brianne and Samar and Eren should have been back by now, and they weren’t. Either something had gone wrong, or…

 _There is no ‘or’,_ Kai’s inner voice insisted. _Something’s gone wrong and they’re not coming back. I sent them to their deaths._

The thought of it tore her heart to shreds, as did the fact that, even knowing their fate ahead of time, she’d still make the same decision. Brianne and Samar were all the family she had left, but their lives weren’t worth more than the future of humanity.

She’d always criticized Erwin Smith for viewing the little men as expendable, for pursuing the ends at the cost of the means, but as Kai walked the desolate halls of Rose at four o’clock in the morning, her boots echoing softly on the floor, she realized that maybe they shared that unforgivable trait.

_Maybe all leaders do._

She wondered if her sister or brother had ever been in a similar situation, wondered if they’d known what it was like to send soldiers out into the field fully aware that those same soldiers would never…

_“Jocelyn?”_

Kai froze, the whispered name coursing through her like a shock wave. There was no mistaking that voice— _his_ voice. She’d known that this meeting would be inevitable, but she’d hoped it would happen later. Much, much later.

Bracing herself, Kai slowly turned and looked into the face of a man she hadn’t seen in six years. He was the same – steel eyes, hard expression, coiled muscle – and yet he wasn’t. He was thinner than she remembered, his hair longer, his posture more weary. But there was no mistaking him.

“Hello, Levi,” she said, her voice thick with all the emotions she’d been choking down since she’d first learned that he was among the group of survivors.

She watched in slow motion as the disbelief and the pained flicker of hope on his face settled into a look of crestfallen recognition. “Kai,” he said, and the sadness in his voice made Kai’s insides twist. “I thought…I thought you were…”

“I know what you thought.” Kai swallowed. “It’s an easy mistake to make. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

Levi nodded. “The last time I saw you, you were just a kid. Now, though...” He shook his head dazedly, as if he couldn't quite believe that she'd grown up in the six years since they'd last laid eyes on each other. “You look like her,” he added softly.

“I know,” Kai said again, her voice nearly as soft as Levi's. “Even when I was a little girl, everyone said I was the spitting image of my sister.”

A flash of pain stole across Levi’s face, a mirror to the pain Kai felt every time she thought about Jocelyn or Finn. Even years after their deaths, thinking about her siblings was still incredibly difficult. The older Ramirez children had more or less raised Kai, and despite the large age gap, the three of them had been closer than most. Losing them had been devastating beyond words.

“You didn't have any tattoos the last time I saw you,” Levi observed as he took a step towards her. “But now you have more ink than Jocelyn did. It's quite the collection.”

Kai idly traced one of the larger ink patterns on her forearm. “I suppose,” she said. Though who knew how many Jocelyn would've gotten if the universe hadn't seen fit to steal her away. “I got one for every year of training I completed.”

Levi paused. “Training?” His brows drew together. “Kenny said that the Legion was all but disbanded.”

“It was,” Kai responded. “The Police is the dominant military branch now.”

Something indefinable flitted across Levi’s steel eyes. “So you’re a soldier?”

“I’m the commander, actually.”

Levi chuckled lightly. “Guess I should’ve figured as much. High ranking was always a trademark Ramirez trait.”

“I’m not the only one who followed in family footsteps,” Kai replied. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, her mind drifting to the one face noticeably absent among her interviewees. “What happened to Kenny?” She asked quietly. She already knew he wasn’t among the Maria survivors, but details mattered.

“He blew Maria’s dynamite cache to buy us time to escape,” Levi answered. “He…he went out on his own terms.”

The ghost of a smile played at Kai’s lips. “Sounds like him,” she murmured, and then she stiffened as Levi moved towards her. The closer he got, the more Kai’s warring emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Part of her wanted to embrace him, to cry with relief that Levi had somehow survived and reappeared in her life against all odds, but another part of her wanted to smash her fists into his face until his features weren’t recognizable.

Levi stopped when he was directly in front of her. “It’s good to see you, Kai,” he said, and she could tell that he meant it.

Which only made her hurt worse. “I wish I could say the same, Levi,” she replied. “But after the stories your group members told about you…” Suddenly, the slim vein of composure she’d clung to burst. “God, Levi.” Her voice was shaking. “What were you thinking, making a pact with a vampire and then bringing it here? Have you lost your mind?”

Levi stiffened as well. “Kai—”

“No,” she interjected swiftly. “Let me finish. You don’t know what it was like for me to learn about the attack on Maria, to think that the one person from the old days I still cared about had been slaughtered. It was…” She couldn’t find the words. “I grieved for you, Levi,” she confessed, “almost as much as I grieved for my siblings.” She blinked back tears. “So imagine my shock and joy, when all these months later, I find out that not only did you survive, but that you also crossed a thousand miles and showed up at our gates. When one of your civilians shared the news that you were the one who’d led them here, I was overwhelmed. It was the happiest I can remember being in a long time.” Her heart was a drum in her ears. “When we first found out that Maria had been attacked, I always hoped that you’d somehow make it, that you’d somehow survive, but I…I didn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t.” She took a breath to steady herself, to no avail. Having him there, seeing him standing before her in the flesh…it was too much. She couldn’t have held anything back if she’d tried. “You were my brother in every way that counted, Levi,” she went on. “I looked up to you and Jocelyn more than I looked up to anyone else. I wanted to be like you both when I grew up—I used to dream about it. And then you go and do something like this.” Her hands balled into white-knuckled fists. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to learn that my childhood hero, the man my sister loved, had returned—with one of _them_?”

“Kai—”

“Do you deny it?”

Levi said nothing, and Kai barked out a mirthless laugh. “That’s what I thought,” she spat, the tears starting to fall. “How could you, Levi?” She cried, her voice breaking over his name. “They took everything from us! And you—you promised me you would get revenge for my brother and sister.” She closed her eyes in an effort to stymie her tears. “I remember that day…that awful day...you came to my room to tell me that Jocelyn and Finn had been…had been killed, and you, you _vowed_ to me that you wouldn’t stop until you’d destroyed every last vampire who had the audacity to exist in our world. You promised me that.” She opened her eyes to look at him, his face blurry through the haze of her tears. “I was fourteen years old when they died and I didn't think I'd make it to fifteen. Your promise was the _only_ thing that helped me survive the loss of my family.” Now, facing the man she'd once idolized, Kai felt like that gangly, fourteen-year-old girl again as she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. “So can you imagine,” she continued, “can you possibly imagine the betrayal I feel right now? Can you?”

Levi looked as though she’d struck him. “Kai,” he said, holding up a hand. “Please listen. If I ever found the vampires who murdered Jocelyn and Finn, I would not hesitate to uphold the promise I made to you— _believe_ me. But Mikasa isn’t one of the people responsible. She’s—”

“I know what she is,” Kai said with barely-concealed fury. “She’s the vampire you saved, the vampire that your Maria friends all say you’re in love with.” She crossed her arms, grateful that her sorrow was morphing into anger. At least _that_ was an emotion that could serve to strengthen instead of shatter her. “Is it true?” She challenged. “Do you love this vampire you’ve brought here?”

Levi exhaled. “Yes,” he admitted, and what was left of Kai’s heart broke at the honesty in that lone syllable.

“My sister deserved better than you,” she said acerbically, her voice full of hurt.

“I loved Jocelyn—”

Kai slapped him across the face, the force of her palm snapping his head to the side. He recovered quickly, but just as the shock of what she’d done registered on his face, Kai slapped him again, equally as hard. Levi stumbled back a pace, but he didn’t retaliate. He just stood there numbly, watching her with a pitying expression that made Kai want to tear him apart.

Instead, she decided to hit him with all the emotions threatening to consume her. “Don’t you dare say you loved my sister,” she growled. “If that were true, you would never defile her memory by taking a vampire for your lover.” She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice, something occurring to her. “But maybe...maybe you just don't know.”

“Don't know what?”

“The truth.” Kai paused, searching for the strength to bring up the thing she was most loathe to ever, ever discuss again. “Did Kenny ever tell you how Jocelyn died?” She asked. “The real story?”

She could tell by the wary look in Levi's eyes that he wasn’t sure. “I know what happened, Kai,” he said, but his words were as unconvincing as his gaze.

“I don’t think you do,” she snapped back. “You see, after you came and told me what happened, I couldn’t accept it. People like Jocelyn and Finn don’t just get killed out in the field—especially not people as skilled as my sister. So I went and found Kenny and I demanded to hear the details. He told me to piss off at first, but eventually I wore him down and he told me everything.” In point of fact, it had taken her four hours to wear him down, at which point Kenny had shoved her into a chair, cracked open a bottle of scotch he’d been muttering about saving for a special occasion, and poured both of them a drink.

“It wasn’t just a mishap in the field, Levi,” she went on. “It wasn’t just an accident. Apparently the vampires my sister’s squad was tracking found out that Jocelyn was a Reaper. They butchered her group while she was out scouting ahead and took Finn hostage.”

Levi’s lips parted. “What?”

 _So he doesn’t know._ All the better. “Your uncle’s squad was acting as a sweeper, and Jocelyn met up with them after she realized her squad had been killed. She wanted to take Kenny’s men and go after Finn since he wasn't among the dead, but Kenny refused, said it was too dangerous. But you know what Jocelyn was like—she would never have left anyone behind, least of all our brother. So she went alone, defying a direct order to retreat. When she didn’t return by the next morning, Kenny took one member of his squad and tracked her.”

“I know this part,” Levi said. “Kenny told me he was the one who found her.”

“More like he found what was _left_ of her,” Kai corrected. “The vampires didn’t just kill her, Levi. They drained her dry and ripped her limb from limb. Kenny said that by the time he got there, even her eyes had been gouged out.”

Horrified was too light a word to describe Levi’s expression. “ _What?”_ He breathed.

“That’s not all,” Kai continued in a strained voice. She’d retched up the alcohol Kenny had given her when she’d first heard the truth, and even talking about it now was enough to make her physically sick, but Levi needed to know. He needed to understand the bloodsucking breed of evil he was trying to defend. “When Kenny found her, there was a vampire fucking her corpse, laughing about having his way with a Reaper. Kenny took its head off while it was still inside of her.”

The visible way in which Levi crumpled should have brought her some measure of satisfaction, but it didn’t. Kai just felt cold and numb and broken. “That’s why Kenny didn’t bring her body home,” she added in a quiet hush. “He couldn’t…he didn’t want anyone to see her like that.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking. His breathing was audible and strained, and he looked like someone was slowly gutting him. “Kenny…” He finally choked out. “Kenny told you this?”

His eyes were begging her to deny it, pleading with her to lie and grant him some modicum of peace, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Nearly word for word,” she avowed. She swallowed against her own pain and attempted to take a calming breath. “Do you understand now?” She asked him softly. “Do you understand why we can never suffer a vampire to live, let alone offer one sanctuary?”

She glimpsed a hint of the old Levi in the wake of her question, a fragment of the hardened Reaper that had made that promise to her so long ago in her bedroom while she’d sobbed inconsolably in his arms. But as quickly as she glimpsed it, that vestige of his old self faded, and when Levi met her eyes, they were tortured but resolute, and the rage and hatred Kai felt weren’t visible in them.

“One day,” he said, his voice chillingly calm, “I will track down each and every one of the monsters who did that to Jocelyn. I gave you my word seven years ago, and I’m renewing it now. But judging an entire species based on the actions of a few is not fair, Kai.” He paused. “I used to feel like you did—I fucking loathed them, thought they all should be chopped up and used for firewood. But then I met Mikasa, and believe me, if there are other vampires like her, our way of thinking needs serious modification. It’s not as simple as us being the good guys and them being the bad guys anymore. It can’t be.”

Kai couldn’t believe her ears. “Even if your Mikasa is somehow a glaring exception to her species, you can’t seriously think that there is such a thing as a ‘good’ vampire. Especially not after what I just told you.”

The look on his face told her that he disagreed.

Kai was so livid she could see spots. “Fine,” she hissed. “Be a fucking traitor to your own kind. Just know that you’ll be on the losing side, in the end.”

“Kai—”

She sucker-punched him, her fist making contact so quickly and solidly that Levi fell to his knees, gasping. “Don’t,” she said coldly. “Don’t say my name, don’t say my sister’s name, and don’t talk to me. You’re betraying me and everyone else over a bloodsucker, even though you know the atrocities they’re capable of. I don’t want to hear anything more you have to say.”

She turned away as Levi clambered to his feet. “Kai, wait,” he wheezed behind her. “Don’t leave things this way. We’re not blood, but we’re…we’re as good as family. Please hear me out. Give me that much.”

“I’ll give you nothing.” Kai didn’t turn and face him. She couldn’t. “You’re dead to me,” she said over her shoulder. “And when your vampire goes to trial, I will make sure the verdict comes down in my favor.”

He might have said something else, but Kai was deaf to it. She marched to the end of the hallway and then she broke into a run, and she didn’t stop until she was back in her own quarters and the door was shut and locked. Then she fell to her hands and knees and, overcome by anger and pain and betrayal, she wept until she had no more tears to cry.

 

**

Sasha woke up in a cold sweat, the vestiges of her nightmare still clawing at her as she sat up and wiped away strands of damp hair that clung to her brow. She was shaking beneath the thin nightgown she was wearing, and the fabric was sticking to her clammy spine. Her head and lower back were aching painfully.

She didn’t know whether it was the tremors or her heavy breathing that woke Connie, but suddenly he was sitting up in bed next to her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Sasha?” He said tentatively.

“I’m okay. It was just…” an image of the dream titan devouring her baby flashed behind her eyes “…just a nightmare.”

Connie put a hand on her back and began moving it in soothing circles. “Yeah, but nightmares can be bad,” he said gently. “I know. I get them too.”

Sasha looked over at him even though it was too dark in their shared room to see his face clearly. “You do?”

“Yeah. Dreams about losing my mom and dreams about…dreams about losing you.”

Sasha searched for his hand, found it, and squeezed it. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “We made it. The hard part’s over.”

He sighed, his hand stilling momentarily on her back. “I know. I get that. But I guess I just thought it would feel…better, you know?”

She did know. Her expectations about what it would be like to finally get to Rose and the reality of it were so different than she hadn’t yet emotionally recovered. They were safer, sure, but in so many ways, the end of their journey felt like a massive letdown.

“So what was your nightmare about this time?”

Sasha almost dodged the question, but she’d made a personal vow not to hide things from Connie anymore, so she answered as honestly as she dared. “It was about the baby. I—I lost it.”

Connie resumed the circles on her back. “We’re not gonna lose this baby,” he said gently. “You and me and Olivia are gonna be just fine.”

Sasha put a hand on her swollen belly. “Olivia?” She repeated.

“Well, we don’t have to call her that, but I just thought you might want to name her after your mum. I remember you mentioning it once.”

“You think it’s a girl?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah. Just a feeling I have. And I think she’s gonna be strong like her mom.”

Tears sprang to Sasha’s eyes, and she leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Connie’s mouth. She’d been aiming for his lips, but her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark.

Still, she could feel the way his lips pulled up into smile beneath hers and it made her happy.

“So you like the idea?” Connie asked. “Of naming her Olivia, I mean?”

“I love it. And I love you.”

Connie had been right—she _had_ mentioned that she’d like to name her first child after her mother, once, when they’d been doing laundry in the middle of the night at Maria and talking about all sorts of nonsensical things they’d like to do ten or twenty years from then. The fact that he remembered that wasn’t surprising, because he always remembered things like that. It was one of the many reasons Sasha loved him.

Connie leaned forward and kissed her back, doing a much better job at locating her lips than she’d done in finding his. When he pulled back, he pressed a tender kiss to her damp brow and then crawled out of bed. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water and a towel. Want anything else?”

“No; that sounds perfect.”

Sasha listened to him shuffle out of their room and shut the door, and then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, flicking on the bedside lamp as she did so. She padded over to the mirror bolted above the dresser, frowning as she took in her appearance.

There were still clumps of damp hair matted to her face, and aside from the bruise-like circles beneath her eyes, her skin was pale.

Suddenly, a violent pain seized her abdomen, and Sasha gasped, reflexively gripping onto the dresser so as not to lose her balance. It didn’t last long, even though it felt like eternity stuffed into the space of seconds, but then the dizziness struck and Sasha felt her legs turn to wet rubber and… _wet?_

She looked down, gaping in confusion at the red-tinged water running down her legs. Oh God, was she bleeding? Had her bladder let go? She hadn’t even needed to…

Realization came through a fog of renewed pain and dizziness. _The baby!_

Her eyes widened in horror. “Connie!” She screamed. It was too soon, much too soon for the baby to be coming. She was weeks away...at least, she was supposed to be. And there shouldn't have been blood. That was wrong, wrong, wrong. Sasha thought of her dream...

Another blinding dose of pain raked through her, and Sasha stumbled to her knees.

 _Olivia!_ She thought desperately, and then everything around her faded into darkness.

 

**

When Historia opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Ymir looking at her, a peaceful look on her freckled face.

Historia blinked, half-convinced that she was still dreaming, but then she remembered that no—this wasn’t a dream. Ymir had returned to her, and she was here, now, her head resting on the pillow next to her own.

She must have had a stupid look on her face, because Ymir chuckled lightly and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Historia’s lips. When the taller girl pulled away, she was smiling. “I can’t imagine a better way to wake up,” she said, and there was an honesty in her brown eyes that made Historia’s heart clench. She stretched languidly. “And I certainly can’t imagine a softer place to sleep. I mean, _shit,_ I can’t believe you manage to motivate yourself out of this bed every morning.” She put her arm behind her head. “I might never leave.”

Historia smiled. It was trademark Ymir; one second, she was murmuring words of saccharine fondness and the next she was five-and-a-half feet of sarcastic bravado. “You haven’t changed,” Historia commented with a smirk.

Ymir looked at her and winked, something that would have been ridiculous coming from anyone else. “Never will, babe,” she replied.

Historia’s levity drifted back to earth. “Except for this,” she said, reaching out to trail her fingers over the stump that was all that remained of Ymir’s right arm.

Ymir twitched at the contact. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh, her eyes going somewhere else. “Except for that.”

Historia sat up and tucked her legs beneath her. “How did it happen?” She asked quietly. She hadn’t brought it up the previous night, hadn’t wanted to interrupt their reunion with words and questions, but now she wanted to know.

“A titan,” Ymir answered without looking at her. “I was trying to be a hero, and it got the better of me.”

“Ymir,” Historia urged gently.

Her lover sighed. “Fine,” she relented. Her brown eyes met Historia’s blue ones. “We were setting an ambush for a titan base camp and we’d broken into three groups. Four, actually, if you count Cap. My group was supposed to attack second, after Clio’s group, but then one of the twins - Lyle - tripped over an upturned root. Apparently there was a titan close enough to hear him fall, because a second later it burst through the trees and went straight for the dumbass. The thing was massive, way too much for either of the twins to handle, and I…I just reacted. I was the closest person to Lyle, so I threw myself in the titan’s path and instead of biting Lyle’s head off, it chomped down on my arm.” A stricken look crossed Ymir’s face. “It railed into me with such impact that I think it actually crushed some of my bones. I somehow managed to use my left arm to drive a dagger into its skull, but I knew I was fucked even when it dropped dead. My arm…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It didn't even look like a part of me anymore, but I could feel it. _God,_ could I feel it. It was the worst pain I've ever felt—sheer agony.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, next thing I knew, I was on the ground, Lyle and Lucy were screaming bloody murder, and everything was spinning. I could feel my heartbeat in my arm, pulsing out…” She shivered. “Jillian tried to make a tourniquet, tried to stop the bleeding, but I knew it was over. If Jones hadn’t shown up when he did…”

Historia blinked away her tears. “You were so brave, Ymir,” she said, her voice tremulous with emotion. “I can’t imagine having to face a titan like that. I can’t imagine any of it.”

Ymir smiled, but it was a wry smile, devoid of humor. “That’s probably for the best,” she said. “Some of the things that happened on the way…” She shuddered, swallowed, and Historia saw a flicker of real fear appear in her eyes.

Wanting to comfort her, Historia ran a hand over Ymir’s hair. “You’re safe now, though,” she said.

“Am I?” The brunette pushed herself up and sat back against the headboard. “It’s pretty clear that Mikasa and Clio aren’t welcome here, and even excluding them, things here seem pretty tense.” She searched Historia’s eyes. “Am I really safe here?” She asked. “Are any of us?”

Historia pursed her lips. She couldn’t lie to Ymir, and she didn’t want to, but she also didn’t want Ymir to worry. After everything she’d survived, she deserved to feel safe and secure.

But she took too long coming up with a reasonable response and Ymir nodded slowly. “That’s kind of what I thought,” she said. Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on? What’s with all the rules and curfews?”

“I don’t know,” Historia answered truthfully. “My father…my father’s up to something, but I’m not sure what it is yet.” She paused. “I found a note in his study a few weeks ago. I couldn’t decipher it in its entirety, but it seemed to be a warning of some kind.”

“I take it you don’t have it with you?”

Historia shook her head. “I couldn’t risk taking it. I memorized it, though. ‘ _Leave by 30-6-6. Use the tunnels. Tell no one. 24-52-89. Look for E. – D_ ’. I’ve been turning it over in my head ever since I read it, trying to figure it out.”

“Any ideas yet?”

“Well, I think the ‘D’ stands for Darius.”

“As in Chief Commander Darius Zacklay?”

“Yes. 30-6-6 is most likely a date, and if so, it’s less than six months away. The rest of it…” Historia exhaled. “I just don’t know.”

Still looking troubled, Ymir threw the covers off and stood up. She’d never been one for modesty, but her nakedness showed off the harrows of the journey she’d been on in a way that made Historia’s stomach turn. Ymir was rail thin, every rib visible beneath her skin, and there were various scars on her body that hadn’t been there before. Historia hadn’t noticed as much last night, her observations clouded by joy at seeing Ymir again and by shock about her arm, but now…

She tried to hide her concern as Ymir drew on the pair of drawstring pants she’d discarded the night before and went about putting on her bra. “Don’t look at me like that,” the taller girl said as she struggled to do the catch of her bra with one hand. “I can feel your pity staring holes in my back from here.”

Historia’s cheeks warmed. “Sorry. It’s just that you look…”

Ymir turned her head slightly, cocking a brow at her over her shoulder. “Like I’ve been through some shit?” She guessed. “Well, I have.” She finally succeeded in latching her bra and then she turned around. “But I’m managing just fine, and I’m here now, so let’s worry about the present problems.”

Historia didn’t push. There were demons in Ymir’s eyes, scars that hadn’t healed, but she’d talk about them when she was ready and not before and Historia had long since learned to respect that. “Okay.”

Ymir sat back down on the edge of the bed. “So Zacklay sends a message to your father telling him to leave by the end of June and use the tunnels. What tunnels?”

“I don’t know. Rose was supposed to have evacuation tunnels built beneath the fortress, but the schematics were discarded after one of them caved in early in the development phase. Then Year Zero happened and there wasn’t time to rework the plans. The tunnels were never built.”

“Are you sure about that?”

It was a simple enough question, but surprisingly one that Historia had never asked herself. She had just assumed that what she knew was the truth, but there was every chance her information could be wrong. Her father hid many things, so why not the construction of evacuation tunnels?

“As far as I know,” she amended, “the tunnels were never built. But I’ve been wrong before.”

“Has your father mentioned anything about a possible need to evacuate Rose?”

“No. Not to me, and definitely not to the civilians. And I found this note in a locked desk drawer. It’s very clear he doesn’t intend to share its contents.”

“All right…so the takeaway is that your father knows something is going to happen and when, and he is planning to get the hell out of here before Rose follows in Maria’s footsteps. What do we do about it?”

 _I need to talk to Dex._ She almost said as much, but Dex didn’t know Ymir and he wouldn’t take kindly to the surprise of having an unapproved ally. “I…there’s someone I can talk to about it,” Historia said. “I’ll pass along the information and go from there.”

Ymir’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Someone you don’t want me to know about?” She asked.

“It’s not my place to reveal their identity.”

Ymir pursed her lips unhappily. “Are you seeing this person?” She asked.

Historia almost laughed at the preposterousness of that. “No!” She exclaimed. “ _Definitely_ not. It’s nothing like that.” Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure that Dex had the capacity for loving, well, _anyone_. People were not high up on his priority list. “Please just trust me, Ymir. I’m working with a small group of people in order to…” She searched for a way to put it “…to bring about changes. There are a great many people here who are not content with the status quo.” She lowered her voice. “And a great many people who want to see my father deposed or worse.”

Surprise blossomed on Ymir’s face. “So you’re a rebel now?” She asked.

“Put bluntly, I suppose so.”

Ymir’s eyebrows rose sky high. “Shit,” she said. “Things really have changed.” She stood up. “Well, you can count me in.”

Historia stood up and wrapped a robe around herself. “Keep your voice down,” she insisted in a whisper. “This apartment has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Ymir was about to say something when two sharp knocks sounded on the outer door.

Startled, Ymir hastily shrugged on her button-up shirt and both women exited the bedroom. More knocks came, harsher than before, followed by a voice that Historia didn’t recognize.

“Yo! Ymir, you in there?”

The tension in Ymir’s shoulders relaxed and she moved towards the door, throwing it open before Historia could object.

There was a brown-haired man standing there, looking agitated.

“What’s up, Mule?” Ymir asked as she haphazardly did up random buttons on her shirt.

“It’s Sasha,” he said. “She’s…something’s wrong and the baby’s coming.”

“What?” The word was as sharp as the sting of a whip. “Where is she?”

“Medical. So is everyone else. I thought you’d—”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Ymir turned back to Historia. “I have to go. One of our friends is in trouble. But we’ll continue our conversation later, okay?” She added with a pointed look.

Historia ignored that. “Is there anything I can do?”

To her surprise, it was the man who answered her. “Pray that we don’t lose them,” he said. “We’ve lost too many of our people already.”

Historia nodded as Ymir stepped into the boots she’d left by the door and then she watched as Ymir and the man left without another word.

_Our people._

The words echoed in her head as she stood there staring at the open, empty doorway.

Six year earlier, it had just been the two of them. _Us against the world,_ Ymir had been fond of saying. But now things were different. Historia had a responsibility to the people of Rose, and Ymir had found a new family of her own.

 _Will there ever be an ‘us’ again?_ Historia wondered.

There was no way of knowing the answer.

 

**

The hospital bed was a sea of blood. Or, at least, that was what it felt like to Connie as he watched the woman he loved scream in pain as she pushed for what seemed like the thousandth time since he’d found her on the floor of their temporary quarters and carried her to medical. She was squeezing his hand with bone-crushing strength, but all Connie could focus on was Sasha’s pale face and the amount of blood soaking into the sheets between her legs. Everything else—the pain in his hand, the doctor and nurses offering instructions as Sasha worked to birth their child, the array of machines beeping in the background—it was all a blur.

Every second was a millennium, and each time Sasha’s teary, pained gaze met his, Connie felt like his heart was being shredded. _Help me,_ she seemed to be silently pleading, but as usual, he couldn’t. All his worthless hide could do was hold her hand and watch.

“She’s losing too much blood,” one of the nurses muttered to Dr. Arlert at some point during the ordeal.

Connie would have lost his shit if it hadn’t been for the group. While they weren’t admitted all at once, occasionally the doctor would allow one of them to come in and hold Sasha’s other hand. Clio was first, followed by Jean, then Ymir, then Clio again, and finally even Captain Levi. Then Jillian came and shooed the rest of them out, and she’d been standing opposite Connie ever since, wiping Sasha’s brow and murmuring soothing words over the laboring woman. Hearing the old woman’s voice and knowing that his friends and companions were near, waiting and watching over Sasha with him, was the only solace Connie found as the hours dragged by, and words would never be able to express his gratitude.

He had no idea what time it was when Sasha finally cried out in a long, agonized wail and their daughter’s head appeared between her bloody legs.

Connie watched, stricken and hopeful, as Sasha continued to push and Dr. Arlert skillfully extracted the child.

His child. Their child.

Connie felt a swell of pride before he realized that the baby was a sickly shade of blue.

“What…what’s wrong with her?” He stammered.

Dr. Arlert was all business as he turned to one of the nurses. “Get me oxygen. You—go prepare an incubator. Quickly.” He looked at Connie as he motioned for one of the other nurses to clip the umbilical cord. “She’s not breathing on her own,” he relayed. He kept a careful eye on the child after the umbilical cord was cut, but after nearly a minute, whatever change he was hoping for clearly didn’t happen because he began doing tiny chest compressions on the blue newborn.

“Is…my baby…alive?” Sasha gasped, tears running down her pale face. Jillian squeezed her hand and wiped her brow, soothing the new mother as best she could, but Connie could see the fear in the old woman’s eyes.

One of the nurses arrived and affixed a small oxygen mask to the baby’s face, pumping air into the child whenever Dr. Arlert said to do so. After nearly two agonizing minutes, during which Connie was sure he would also cease breathing, his daughter coughed and took her first rattling breath.

Dr. Arlert leaned back and exhaled. “Get her to the incubator—quickly,” he told one of the nurses. He looked at Sasha. “I need to try and stop the mother’s internal bleeding.”

Connie felt light-headed. “Internal bleeding?” He repeated daftly.

 _I could lose them both,_ he realized in a panic. _I could lose them both._

The room swirled and suddenly Connie was falling. He had just enough awareness left to register that Clio had somehow caught him before he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

**

She was in the old Legion archive room when Clio finally found her, her small frame pressed against the lone window as she stared out into the darkness of the night. She’d redone her bun, combed through the tangles and tied it up with a new piece of leather, but she was still wearing the clothes she’d had on the day before.

Clio walked towards her and held out the roll he’d taken from the kitchens. “Here,” he said, tapping it against her arm. “You missed dinner.”

Cody took it and looked up at him, her features suffused by the pale glow of moonlight. “So did you,” she said, tearing it in half.

Clio took the smaller half and smiled. “Thanks, Ms. Ral. Good to know you have my back.”

Cody smiled in return, but it was a fleeting gesture, and it didn’t reach her eyes. “How’s the baby?” She asked as she took a bite of the bread.

“Alive. She wasn’t breathing at first, but Dr. Arlert knows what he’s doing. I think she’s going to pull through.” Sasha, on the other hand...

“What about Sasha?” Cody asked, as if she could read his mind.

Clio thought of his friend's pale, clammy face and weak heartbeat, his own heart sinking. “It's hard to tell at this point,” he answered honestly. “But if anyone can pull through, it's Sasha. She's strong.”

“Yeah,” Cody agreed. “She's definitely a fighter. Like you.” Her voice deepened slightly. “Like Mom.”

“And like you,” Clio added with a soft nudge to her arm. “You're your mother's daughter, Cody. Never forget that. Her strength lives on in you.”

Cody nodded thoughtfully between bites and then grew quiet, once more directing her gaze out the window. “I made up my mind about something today,” she said eventually, her voice soft.

Clio waited, knowing there was more to come.

“If you get kicked out of Rose, I’m coming with you.”

Clio’s lips parted in surprise. “Cody…” He swallowed. “ _If_ that happens, and I’m hoping it doesn’t, I don’t know if that will be possible. As much as I’d want you with me, you’d be safer here.”

“You’re wrong.” Cody turned to face him, her amber eyes filled with a determined resolve that reminded Clio of Petra. “I used to think that walls kept people safe,” she went on. “But they don’t. Maria’s gone, and Rose and Sina could be next.”

“You don’t know that, Cody,” Clio reasoned gently.

“Not for sure,” she countered, her eyes losing none of their fire. “But I bet I’m right, and I’d rather be outside with you than stuck in here if something bad happens.” Her little eyebrows drew together, and, in a rare moment, she looked her age. “Please don’t leave me behind, Clio.”

The fear in her voice twisted at Clio’s heart. He knelt down in front of her, placing a hand on her cheek. “Hey,” he said. “You listen to me, Cody Ral. I made a promise to your mother that I would keep you safe, and I’m not one to break my promises. No matter what happens here, even if we get separated, it won’t be for forever. You have my word that I will never leave you behind.” He smiled. “Besides,” he added huskily, “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You’ve got my heart, kid.”

Cody’s cheek began to wobble beneath his thumb, and then she walked forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you, Clio,” she whispered.

Clio closed his eyes, momentarily overcome by the power those four whispered words had over him. Other than Sasha, it had been years since Clio had heard those words spoken to him, and the fact that this brave little girl was the one uttering them gave him strength, made him believe that maybe - just _maybe_ \- he was good enough, human enough, to live up to the promise he'd made to Petra before she'd died in his arms.

_Now and always. I haven't forgotten, Petra. I never will._

“I love you too,” he murmured into her auburn hair, squeezing her back.

They stayed like that for a moment, until, with a sniffle, Cody pulled away. She wiped at her eyes and crossed her arms. “I meant what I said, though. If you have to leave, then I’m going, too. Okay?”

Clio wanted to argue with her, but a sliver of intuition kept him from doing so. After all, walls _hadn’t_ kept them safe when Maria had fallen; if he left her here and titans attacked…

He sighed, relenting. “Okay.”

Cody didn’t look convinced. “Do you swear it?”

“I swear it.”

“On your bun?” She pressed, completely serious.

Clio chuckled and stood up. “Yes,” he said. “I swear it on my bun.”

Cody’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good.”

They stood in silence, then, watching the dark world beyond the window, and Clio wondered if, like him, Cody missed the feeling of being out beyond the walls. There had been dangers everywhere and the entire journey west had been beyond harrowing, but there had been freedom in it, the likes of which one would never find in any of the fortresses.

_I wonder if it will ever be safe to live outside again._

Before Year Zero, Clio would often visit his parents on their farm. It had been a humble place they'd cultivated themselves, and even though the acreage hadn't been impressive, that modest plot of land had brought Clio a lot of happiness over the years. It was funny, really, how a small barn, a smattering of livestock, and a lake stocked with fish could be the source of so many good memories, but that was the truth of it.

Clio would've traded nearly anything for one more day on that farm.

 _Well,_ he thought as he looked down at the somber little girl standing next to him, _almost anything._

Maybe he would go back to his family's farm one day. Maybe he'd even get to show it to Cody. For now, though, there were other things to worry about.

“I’m going to go check on Sasha,” he said into the stillness of the room. “You want to come?”

Cody shook her head, still gazing out into the dark. “I want to stay here a little bit longer.”

“All right. Just do me one favor, okay?”

Cody glanced at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Check in with Jillian at a reasonable time. If I find out she had to wander all over this fortress looking for you again, I am not going to be happy. I might even let Ymir give you a spanking—I hear she’s itching to smack someone with her left hand.”

Cody smirked. “She’d have to catch me first.”

“Cody…”

The little girl sighed, but her smirk remained in place. “I’ll go find Jillian soon and I’ll stay with her tonight. I won’t wander off. I promise.”

“Fair enough.” Clio smiled. “Goodnight, Ms. Ral,” he said, and then he headed back down the way he’d come.

 

**

The world was still there, but she shouldn’t have been. She shouldn’t have been able to feel the oxygen in her lungs, shouldn’t have been able to smell the blood in the tubes around her, shouldn’t have been able to open her eyes and see lights, colors, shapes… _life._

The bleeds had taken her. She had died.

And yet as Mikasa took a second breath and blinked beneath the haze of the artificial lights above her, she was forced to accept reality as it was instead of reality as it should have been.

Somehow, some way, she was alive.

She could have spent days wrapped around that simple, impossible truth, but the slight ping in her awareness drew her attention and she glanced to her right, her claws instinctively shifting beneath the skin of her fingers.

There was a short blond man standing by her bed, staring at her, his blue eyes wide and his mouth agape.

Obviously she wasn’t the only one surprised by the fact that she was alive.

The man recovered his composure after a moment. “You’re awake,” he stated, as if trying to convince himself that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Yes,” Mikasa answered, testing her voice. “Alive and awake.” It felt strange to speak, like the words were in her head but getting them to move from her brain to her lips required lassoing them and pulling them forth with great resistance.

The blond man moved towards her and Mikasa shrank back, readying herself for a fight.

He paused when he noticed her defensiveness. “Forgive me,” he said. “You must be so confused. I’m Dr. Arlert, a scientist and physician at Fortress Rose, which is where you are. Your friends brought you to me to treat your…” He pursed his lips. “Condition,” he finally settled on. “I’m not going to hurt you, but now that you’re awake, I would like to test a few basic responses and assess any damage you might have as a result of your wounds. Will you allow me to do so?”

The simple courtesy he showed by asking assuaged Mikasa’s immediate concern. She nodded.

He was gentle and kind, always asking before he touched her, always thanking her when she did what he asked—looking this way, turning her head just so, blinking into a light. Soon enough, the doctor was done and he stepped back, hastily jotting a few notes down onto the clipboard by her bed.

Mikasa swallowed, cringing slightly at the sawdust texture of her throat. “Does everything seem okay?” She asked.

Dr. Arlert put the clipboard down and assessed her candidly. “Miraculously, yes. You seem to be healing quickly and completely.”

Mikasa’s gaze trailed down to the small bowl of earth where her heart was nestled, eyeing the tube protruding from it. “But my heart…”

“Yes.” A small divot appeared between the man’s brows. “It's Mikasa, right?

Again, she nodded.

“Mikasa, I am a man of science. If I’m being honest, there is no way you should be awake and speaking with me right now. And I must confess that initially, the only reason I agreed to treat you was out of curiosity; I didn’t harbor any hope that I could save you. But your friend Clio was so insistent…” Dr. Arlert shook his head. “When the treatment started to work, I was shocked. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mikasa wanted the details, wanted to know exactly what had happened between her loss of consciousness and now, but before she could muster the words, a nurse appeared in the doorway.

“Dr. Arlert,” she said in a panic, “you need to come quick. It’s that pregnant woman. She…”

The blond doctor held up a hand. “Show me.” He turned back briefly to Mikasa, just long enough for her to see that his kindly countenance had given way to a look of determination. “Rest. I’ll be back later to check your vitals and answer any questions you might have.”

 _What’s wrong with Sasha?_ Mikasa wanted to ask, but the blond man disappeared through the door before she had a chance to.

After his footsteps faded, it grew quiet and stayed that way for a long time. Minutes and hours slipped by, and Mikasa’s worries gathered and darkened like storm clouds in her head the longer she was left alone. Was Sasha okay? Had something happened to her unborn child? Was everyone else okay? Was Levi…?

_Levi._

His name sparked an idea, one that Mikasa couldn’t believe hadn’t occurred to her sooner.

Closing her eyes, she pushed out through their connection, and…

 

_“Let me take her,” Clio was saying. “Please.”_

_“She’s dead.”_

_She was cradled in Levi's arms, still and quiet, bathed in blood and rain, and Levi was having trouble breathing past his shock._

_“She isn’t,” Clio insisted. “Please, Captain, let me take her.”_

 

It was so real that Mikasa wanted to reach out and comfort him, but before she could hold onto it, the scene faded, morphed:

 

_They were inside Rose, in the room Mikasa was now resting in._

_“I’m sorry.” The blond doctor was shaking his head. “She’s…she’s dead, there’s nothing I can do.”_

_Levi drew his dagger and lunged forward, steel eyes wild and murderous, but Clio held him back. “Levi, stop! Violence isn’t the answer here.” To the doctor, he said, “There’s still time. We can use the blood bond to save her. I have an idea, please just hear me out…”_

Again, it changed:

 

_“You should get something to eat,” Dr. Arlert said. “Sitting here hour after hour will not change her recovery. I promise to come find you if anything changes.”_

_Levi didn’t move. “I’m not leaving her.” He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but he wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t._

_“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” The doctor pressed._

_The Reaper’s answer was resolute. “No. I’m not leaving her,” he said again._

Once more, the scene shifted:

 

_Levi was speaking to a Latina woman Mikasa had never seen before. She was young and pretty, and so angry that her rage was a palpable current. “Is it true?” She asked in a cold voice that belied her youth. “Do you love this vampire you’ve brought here?”_

_Levi’s hesitation was nearly nonexistent. “Yes.”_

Mikasa gasped and opened her eyes, breathing hard. She was shaking slightly, and even her lower lip was trembling, her physical self as affected as if she’d been bodily traveling through Levi’s memories instead of witnessing them secondhand.

As soon as her mind stopped spinning, Mikasa assessed what had happened. Never – not once – had it been so easy to establish a connection between herself and Levi. She had reached out and instantly been flooded with him: his feelings, his memories, his thoughts…they’d all been right there, slipping onto her like a second skin. And they’d been powerful, clear in a way they’d never been before, as though she were reliving her own memories. But even that didn’t quite describe it, because the scenes hadn’t felt like memories at all; they’d been almost tangible in their realness, as if she had been transported back to watch them as they occurred.

And he _loved_ her.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought, her spirit soared, and her heart…

Understanding hit her as solidly as the arrow had.

Of course. It was Levi’s blood that had saved her, Levi’s blood that the doctor had pumped into her dying heart, Levi’s blood that must have undone the work of the arrow and reversed the bleeds. Her very essence had been mixed with his blood, and the strength of their blood bond had dramatically increased.

Again, Mikasa took a breath and reached out, but this time she did so gently, her will no more forceful than a whisper in the wind.

Images popped up, as before, but they weren’t overwhelming, and instead of letting herself be pulled randomly, Mikasa searched for something that felt like now, until...

 

_“Go get some rest,” Levi was saying. “That’s an order. I’ll stay here until Dr. Arlert is sure Sasha's stable.”_

_Jean and Ymir looked tired but unconvinced._

_“Are you sure?” Jean said. “I could probably—” he yawned “—probably stay up a while longer.”_

_“I’m sure. Go get some rest, Kirschtein. You too, Ymir.”_

“How are you feeling?”

The question wasn’t part of Levi’s conversation, but it took Mikasa a moment to return to herself.

When she opened her eyes, Dr. Arlert was standing in front of her, holding a clear medical bag filled with blood in his hands.

“How is Sasha?” She countered, ignoring the doctor’s initial question.

The blond man smiled. “She’s weak but stable. I believe that she and her newborn will pull through.”

“She had the baby?” Mikasa asked in surprise. “So early?”

The doctor’s smile dimmed slightly. “Yes,” he answered. “It wasn’t an easy birth, and your friend Sasha lost a lot of blood, but mother and child are both alive.” He sighed. “All I can say is that it’s a good thing Sasha didn’t go into labor on your journey. I’m not sure the outcome would have been the same.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then his small smile reappeared. “Now,” he said, “how are _you_?”

“Fine,” Mikasa answered. “Actually, I’d like to test my strength, if that’s okay.”

The doctor placed the blood bag next to her on the hospital bed. “I don’t see any harm in that,” he said. “But please, if you wouldn’t mind, eat first. You haven’t had anything since you arrived here.”

“That’s not really true,” Mikasa replied, looking pointedly at her heart. “You used quite a bit of Levi’s blood to mend my heart.”

The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “You can tell it’s his blood?”

“Yes. All blood is unique, to a certain extent, but Levi’s is…unmistakable.”

Curiosity blossomed in the doctor’s blue eyes. “Is that because of the blood bond you share? Would other vampires share your opinion of his blood?”

Mikasa remembered hunters talking about the taste of a Reaper’s blood as though it were some kind of divine elixir, but how much of that had been speculation and male posturing versus legitimate truth remained a mystery. After all, no one in her clan had ever actually tasted a Reaper’s blood…until her. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Although I suspect that no one else would feel exactly as I do. Blood bonds are rare things.”

To dissuade him from asking any more questions at present, Mikasa propped herself up to a seated position, pushed the covers off, and eased her legs over the side of her hospital bed. To her surprise, aside from a few residual aches and pains, she didn’t feel particularly weak. And when she put weight on her feet and stood, she didn’t experience even a hit of dizziness. She felt almost refreshed.

A bolt of concern shot through her. “How much blood did you take from Levi?”

“A little less than one liter, which is more than I normally would have taken from any one person, but not enough to put him at any risk. And I made sure he replenished his fluids throughout the course of the extractions. Why do you ask?”

Mikasa took a few steps across the room. “Because I feel…strong. Stronger than I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Well,” the doctor went on as she began to lap the room, “how much on average were you feeding prior to now?”

Mikasa paused. “I suppose…” She trailed off, thinking. Aside from Levi, she’d only accepted blood once when she’d been with the group of vampires, and before she’d joined up with the humans, her diet had subsisted mostly of animals and scavenging. “I suppose I’ve been blood rationing on and off for the last couple years,” she realized with some surprise.

Dr. Arlert frowned. “Is that normal?”

“No, but finding fresh blood sources is very difficult these days. Titan blood makes vampires sick, and humans are locked in their fortresses, so aside from vampires drinking from one another, animals are really the only viable food source.”

“Interesting. I’d love to speak with you in more detail about all of this at some point, if you’d be willing to talk to me. I’ve never treated a vampire before, and I feel that there is so much I could learn just by talking with you.”

Mikasa sensed that he was being genuine, and she gave him a smile. “I’d be happy to,” she said. “You saved my life; answering a few questions seems like the least I can do.”

“Thank you, Mikasa.” He pointed to the all-but-forgotten blood bag. “I’ll leave you now, but please consider eating. Even if you feel strong, you’ve been through quite an ordeal and I’m sure your body is craving nutrients.”

Mikasa eyed the red contents warily as the doctor left. She didn’t particularly want the blood and she didn’t like the idea of drinking something when she didn’t know its source, but perhaps he was right: her body still needed blood.

She got through three mouthfuls before she put it down, grimacing. It tasted like thick, cold sludge sliding down her throat, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach any more.

“Mikasa?”

She hadn’t realized just how desperately she’d missed Levi's voice until she heard it. She turned, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of him.

“Hi,” she said lamely, a tremulous smile touching her lips, and then they were moving towards each other, drawn like magnets.

Mikasa wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, though she noticed his grip on her was much looser. “I won’t break,” she whispered in his ear, and she smiled as she felt him pull her closer.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, and Mikasa could feel Levi’s relief and happiness as strongly as she felt her own, their bond heightening the sense of comfort and joy both of them were feeling in their moment of reunion.

Mikasa blinked her tears away as they finally pulled apart, surprised to find Levi’s steel eyes full of emotion as well. “I thought I lost you,” he said, tenderly stroking the side of her face.

Mikasa covered his hand with hers. “I’m only here because of you,” she murmured. “You saved my life, Levi.”

As always, the Reaper shrugged off her gratitude. “Clio and Dr. Arlert had more to do with it than I did,” he replied. “I just supplied the blood.” He let his hand fall from her face and glanced over at her heart and the partially full blood bag. “And not enough of it, apparently.”

“Dr. Arlert brought that for me in case I needed it, but honestly, your blood healed me. I feel strong, and that stuff…” She made a face. “Well, it doesn’t taste the best. And it isn't fresh.”

Levi chuckled. “I had no idea you were such a picky eater, vampire,” he teased.

Mikasa felt a smirk tugging at her lips. “I guess you’ve spoiled me, Reaper.” Her levity settled somewhat. “How is Sasha?” She asked.

“She lost a lot of blood, but she’s stable. So is the baby. And thanks to Clio, Connie won't have a lump on his head.”

“What happened to Connie?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Never mind. The important thing is, as long as Sasha stays stable, she, Connie, and Olivia are going to be fine.”

 _Olivia must be the baby,_ Mikasa realized.

“Would you like to see them?” Levi asked.

Mikasa nodded. “I would. I would also like to leave the hospital for a while, if you think Dr. Arlert won’t mind. I’m tired of feeling like a patient.”

Levi shrugged. “What the doc doesn’t know won’t hurt him. C’mon.”

They looked in on Sasha first, who was sleeping, and while she looked thin and pale, her chest was rising and falling in a consistent pattern and her heartbeat sounded steady, which put Mikasa at ease somewhat.

The newborn was in a different room, in a machine Levi called an incubator, which apparently helped babies who couldn’t yet breathe on their own or had other complications. Like her mother, Olivia was sleeping, her small pink form occasionally moving as she clutched at the air with her tiny fingers.

It was one of the most beautiful things Mikasa had ever seen, a miracle of nature.

_How was there ever a time I wished death on all of humanity?_

“Are you okay?” Levi asked when he noticed how quiet she’d gotten.

Mikasa shook her troubled thoughts away. “Yes,” she answered. “She’s just so…so…”

“Amazing?”

Mikasa smiled. “Yes. Seeing her there, I feel like it gives meaning to everything we endured over the past months. It gives me hope for the future.”

Levi nodded. “Me too,” he said. He glanced around the room. “Still want to get out of here?” He asked under his breath.

Mikasa nodded, and she followed Levi as he led her from the room and down a series of hallways. He always checked to make sure no one was around first before motioning her forward, which made Mikasa think that Dr. Arlert wouldn’t, in fact, have been okay with her leaving medical, but she didn’t complain about Levi’s rule breaking. If anything, she was grateful for it.

Before they got to the entrance, however, Levi glanced over his shoulder at her. “Is it okay to leave your heart here?” He asked.

Mikasa smiled inwardly at his naiveté. “As long as my heart is touching earth and out of the sunlight, it will be fine. I don’t need it with me all the time, as you already know.”

Guilt flashed across Levi’s face and Mikasa instantly regretted her choice of phrasing. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she assured him.

Still, the guilt didn’t completely ease from his features until they’d arrived at their apparent destination.

They were standing in front of a door that simply read TEMP Q22.

“What is this place?” Mikasa asked.

“My room, for the time being,” Levi answered. He retrieved a key from his pants pocket and turned it in the lock. “I’d take you for a tour of Rose, but given the climate right now, I think it’s best if we keep you more or less out of sight.” He gave her an apologetic look as he held the door open for her, but Mikasa understood: she wasn’t a welcome guest here. Dr. Arlert may have treated her kindly, but the arrow that had pierced her heart was proof that others weren’t as ready to let her in.

The accommodations were simple but clean, the room furnished with a bed, chair, desk, standing lamp, and small dresser. Jocelyn’s boomerang was resting on the desk, but other than that, Levi hadn’t adorned the room with any personal effects. And just as in the medical facility, there were no windows. It gave the room a somewhat cell-like feel, but it was still more comfortable and private than her hospital bed.

Mikasa hadn’t really moved into the room, so Levi walked past her and opened the top drawer of the three-drawer dresser, pulling out a bath towel and a pair of drawstring pants identical to the ones he was currently wearing. He handed both to her. “There’s a shower room down the hall,” he said by way of explanation. “I know Dr. Arlert did his best to clean you up, but I don’t think he managed to get all of the blood and dirt off of you. I know there aren’t any showers in the medical facility, so I thought you might want to make use of one of the showers here.”

At his words, Mikasa realized just how dirty she was. She could feel dried blood on her skin, along with other souvenirs of the mud and bleeds she’d encountered at Rose’s gates. She grimaced and took the proffered towel and pants. “A shower would be lovely,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

To her surprise, Levi chuckled. “Normally, I would have chewed your ass out for the lapse in personal hygiene, but I think, given the circumstances, you get a pass.” He rummaged in the second drawer and pulled out a slightly wrinkled crew neck t-shirt. “Here.” He tossed it to her without looking, and Mikasa caught it instinctively. “It’s the only other shirt I have, or I’d offer you something nicer.”

Mikasa added it to her bundle and clutched it to her chest. “It's fine,” she assured him.

Levi showed her where the showers were, handed her a bottle of soap, and then stood there, staring at her with a bemused expression on his face.

“Levi?” Mikasa said questioningly.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I just…” He gave her a look reminiscent of one she’d seen only once before, one that softened his features and made him appear almost boyish. “It’s still hard to believe that you’re here, that you’re okay. I never thought…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he mumbled again. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

Mikasa watched him shuffle down the hall and round the corner before she stepped into the shower room and closed the doors. There were three stalls, and she chose the one closest to the back wall since it had a shelf big enough for her towel and both her clean and soiled clothes.

She’d never worked a shower before (her clan hadn’t had such modern amenities), and once she finally figured out the mechanism, the force of the spray startled her, making her jump as water suddenly gushed out and pelted against her exposed skin. Once she got used to it, however, the rhythmic flow of water felt good on her tensed, knotted muscles, and she ended up standing there for a few long minutes before it even occurred to her to wash herself.

The soap smelled faintly of lemon, which wasn’t Mikasa’s favorite scent, but she scrubbed every inch of herself with it anyway, from the roots of her hair down to the mud-caked space between her toes, washing away weeks of grime and blood until the water running down the drain finally ran clear again, and then she soaped herself up one more time just to be sure.

She took her time drying herself off, too, seeing as it had been years since she’d been able to pamper herself this way. For once, she had time and quiet and solitary space, and she took the opportunity to enjoy the sound of the towel rustling against her scalp and the sight of water droplets slowly rolling down her body. By the time she dressed herself in the clothes Levi had provided, Mikasa was feeling more relaxed than she had since the nights in her formative years when her grandmother would sing her to sleep.

Levi was still awake when she returned to his room, sitting on the lone chair and staring down at his hands. He glanced up as she entered, his distracted focus clearing slightly as he took in the sight of her.

Mikasa placed the folded bundle she’d made of the towel and her dirty clothes on his dresser and then walked over to the side of the bed closest to his chair and sat down facing him, feeling a strange, nostalgic kind of déjà vu that reminded her of their time at the cabin.

“You’re troubled about something,” she stated.

Levi sighed. “Yeah.”

Mikasa thought back to the images she’d seen when she’d tapped into their blood bond earlier, and the memory of the young woman sprang instantly to mind. “Does it have something to do with the angry woman you were speaking with?” She guessed.

Levi’s head snapped up. “You know about that?”

“Only fragments. Our bond…” She thought of how to put. “I think our bond is stronger now that your blood has been infused directly into my heart—at least on my end. It isn’t just feelings and sensations that I can pick up on; it seems to be memories and experiences too.”

“I see.” Levi’s expression soured. “So how much of that conversation did you wind up hearing?”

_Do you love this vampire?_

Mikasa clasped her hands and stared down at them, letting her damp hair fall forward into her face. “Not much.”

Levi made a _tsk_ ing sound in reply. “Blood bond aside, you really are a terrible liar, Mikasa.”

Mikasa forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m not lying. I didn’t hear much, just enough to know that she was angry with you.”

“Angry is an understatement. Kai is livid, and part of me can’t blame her for it.”

“Kai?”

Levi’s gaze was almost wary, as if he didn’t really want to tell her. But he still did. “Kai Ramirez. She’s the commander of the Military Police.” He paused. “She's also Jocelyn’s younger sister.”

 _Oh._ Mikasa shifted slightly. “Is it…is it because of me?” She asked, thinking of how hostile the woman had been when asking Levi about his feelings.

A pained look flitted across Levi’s already unhappy face. “Yes.” He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. “Kai hates vampires because of what they did to her sister and brother, and after she told me the details regarding Jocelyn’s death, I…” His voice broke, and Mikasa felt his emotional turmoil acutely as he continued. “I didn’t know how it happened until today. My uncle, he…he never told me, but he told Kai, and…now I know.” He swallowed. “I wish I could unhear it,” he admitted wretchedly.

Mikasa knew better than to ask for details.

“But Kai,” he went on, “she’s lived with this for seven years, and I get it. Grief, anger, guilt, sorrow, blame…it’s easy to funnel all of that shit into hatred, and that’s what Kai’s done. Hating vampires is what’s kept her going all these years, and I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

The fragment she’d heard out of context was beginning to make sense now. “But she’s blaming you for _not_ feeling that way,” Mikasa surmised.

“Yes.” Levi looked up at her. “She blames me. She looked up to me, and now I’ve shown up on her turf with one of the creatures responsible for murdering her family. You may not have had anything to do with Jocelyn's death, but all Kai cares about, all she can see, is that you’re a vampire. She called me a traitor to my own kind for bringing you here, for defending you to her.”

Mikasa could tell how much that pained him, and not just because of their blood bond; the anguish was etched all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, meaning it. “I never meant to be a source of contention between you and anyone you care about.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Levi said immediately. “None of this is your fault.” His expression softened. “Before I met you, I _was_ Kai. Hatred was what kept me going, and my single-mindedness about butchering your kind was the only thing that kept me from drinking myself into an early grave. But now…now I know how empty it all was.”

His words were a balm to Mikasa’s anxiety. “You’re not the only one. I hated your people just as much.” She could still remember that awful night with vivid clarity, when she’d stood watch over the burning pyre of her clan’s remains and vowed to make the humans pay for what they’d done.

She shook off the remembered loneliness and emptiness with a small shudder. “You changed the way I see the world, too,” she admitted.

“But Kai wasn’t with us,” Levi said. “And neither were the people of Rose. We’ve changed, but nothing else fucking has.”

 _Not yet._ “Just because we were the first doesn’t mean that we'll be the last,” Mikasa reasoned. “Sometimes change happens one person at a time.”

Levi glanced over at her, looking doubtful. “You really believe that?”

Mikasa thought of Solomon. “Yes,” she answered. “I really do.” She stood up. “Dr. Arlert must be wondering where I am by now,” she began with some reluctance. “I should probably—”

“Stay.” Levi stood up and walked over to her. “So the good doctor might be looking for you. So what?” His eyes were fierce. “After everything Rose has put you through, I think you’re allowed to fuck with their protocols a little.”

Unconsciously, Mikasa’s gaze shifted to the bed, and Levi noticed, jumping to his own conclusions. He took a step back, giving her space. “I’m not…” The fierceness in his eyes faded to chagrin. “I’m not expecting anything, Mikasa. I swear I’m not. I just...” He gave her a telling look.

_I just want you close._

She heard it even though he hadn’t spoken it, and it was a sentiment that mirrored her own feelings. “I’ll stay,” she said.

Levi’s relief was almost palpable, despite the fact that he shrugged it off with a simple “okay”.

Mikasa eyed him for a moment as he stood there, and then she made a decision. She closed the distance between them and brought her hands up to his chest.

Levi breathed into her touch, and Mikasa could feel the steady, rich beat of his heart beneath her palms. She curled her fingers into his shirt.

“Mikasa?” Levi’s voice was questioning, and when she met his gaze, it was filled with uncertainty and a spark of something else, something she’d seen at the cabin and again after they’d shared a kiss. It might have been indefinable, but that look made her throat go dry just as it had before.

Urged on by a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach, Mikasa slid her hands up and wound them around his neck, and then, slowly, she closed the rest of the distance between them and gently pressed her lips to his.

Levi pulled back, even as his hands came to rest on her hips, the contradictory motions mirrored in the warring tide of his eyes.

Mikasa knew what he was asking. “You said there was more, Levi,” she murmured into the stillness of the room. She leaned in again and brushed her lips over his in a whisper of a touch. “Show me more,” she said, surprised at the huskiness of her own voice.

She felt Levi’s heart stutter as if it were her own. “Are you sure?” He whispered back.

“Yes. Please.”

Levi’s grip on her hips, at first uncertain, now tightened as his fingers anchored onto her, and without another word, he captured her lips with his.

Mikasa slanted her mouth against his and opened to him, her lips parting as she felt his tongue pressing against their seam, and while he was gentle at first, the second Mikasa made a small sound in the back of her throat, the mood shifted.

Levi yanked her body against his so hard that Mikasa could feel every ridge of his muscular frame, and the gentle prods of his tongue became insistent, needy, as though he were trying to drink her in. It was exciting in a way Mikasa had never felt before, and she arched into it, seeking more, needing more. She moaned into his mouth as Levi’s hands moved from her hips to her ass, uttering a little gasp as he cupped the curve of her backside and dragged her flush against him.

Their mouths broke apart as Levi nibbled down her chin and neck and latched onto her jugular, his teeth scraping along the places his tongue traveled, his lips sucking at her as though he were trying to feed.

Mikasa’s fangs stirred at the sensation and her hips rocked involuntarily against Levi's, and she gasped again as she felt the growing bulge in his pants, her cheeks flushing as she realized what it was.

Levi made a sound against her throat that was more growl than groan, and he hoisted her up, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist as he moved them to the bed.

He laid her down gently and made to move away, but Mikasa wasn’t ready for the loss of contact, and she grabbed at him, pulling him down above her. She registered his surprise even as he chuckled against her, but his chuckles turned to curses as she rocked her hips against his and let the very tip of her fangs skate along the skin of his neck.

She could feel him fighting for control, and she rebelled against it, using their blood bond to convey her hunger.

 _Lose control,_ she urged as she found his lips again. _Let go,_ she begged as she lifted one of her legs around his hip and instinctively opened herself further to him.

She felt his desire growing, physically and through their bond, and the voracity of it was so intense that Mikasa felt herself growing damp. She moaned, and Levi’s hand came up behind her raised leg and grabbed the back of her knee, angling her _just_ so…

Mikasa’s whole body seemed to flush as the change in angle made her feel something entirely new, as the ridge of his hardening cock rubbed against the dampening part of her she’d only ever touched on her loneliest nights. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she rocked against him without prompting, wanting, _needing_ the friction he’d teased her with.

Levi let her, pushing back against her as he took her mouth with a vengeance, his tongue probing deeper and deeper, thrusting against hers in a way that could only be described as carnal.

But just as Mikasa began to feel something building within her, Levi ripped himself away, propping himself up on his arms and putting a few inches between them.

He was breathing hard and his eyes were blown black, shining down at her with a mixture of desire and hunger that made Mikasa squirm, but he held her at bay when she reached for him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

Mikasa reached up and put her hand on his cheek. “You know I do, Levi,” she answered honestly.

Levi closed his eyes at her touch and took a breath, and then he rocked back on his heels. “Sit up for me,” he said.

She did, but her nerves got the better of her when his hands moved to the hem of her t-shirt. “I’ve…I’ve never…” She licked her lips. “There’s never been anyone,” she admitted quietly.

The look of surprise that flitted across Levi’s face was fleeting, and then he leaned forward and kissed her gently, soothing her fears. “Let me show you,” he said, his hands once more catching the hem of her shirt.

This time, Mikasa let him pull it over her head.

Levi was so quiet and still that, if it hadn’t been for the blood bond, it would have been hard to discern what he was thinking as he gazed upon her bare form, but Mikasa could feel something akin to awe flowing between them, and all her embarrassment faded away.

Gently, Levi pressed her down again into the coverlet, his hands beginning to trail down her form with such light touches that Mikasa had to arch into them to increase the skin-to-skin contact. His mouth followed, tracing the lines he made with his hands, kissing over her skin from her collarbone to her navel. He didn’t touch her breasts the first time, so when his mouth suddenly latched onto a nipple, Mikasa cried out, feeling an answering gush of wetness below as his finger tweaked the other.

“Levi…” She whispered.

She felt him smile against her skin as he switched breasts and then continued downwards, and she shivered when she felt his breath at the waistband of the drawstring pants. Like two hooks sure of their prize, Levi curled his fingers into her pants and began to push them down, moving slightly to slip them off of her feet when they tangled around her ankles.

She was bare beneath the pants, and even though she wanted Levi to see her, she felt nervous butterflies take wing in her stomach as his eyes roved over her nakedness. And when his hand trailed towards the place that was already wet with want for him, Mikasa squeaked and sat up, trapping his hand between her thighs.

Understanding blossomed in Levi's lust-filled eyes. “Relax, Mikasa,” he breathed, his lips rubbing along her jawline and finding her ear. He nibbled it gently, making her shiver. “Open for me,” he whispered.

She obeyed, slowly, staring at him with sinful innocence. He held her gaze as his long fingers found her, as he touched her. She gasped, and then she leaned her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as he began rubbing her in small circles.

Her body began to tighten and her fangs began to ache, and when Levi smeared some of her wetness lower and dipped a finger inside of her, Mikasa’s mouth opened in an involuntary cry.

Levi caught her cry in a kiss, gently stroking her tongue with his as he continued to move his fingers over her and inside of her. By the time he added a second finger, Mikasa was squirming, moaning into his mouth as she tried to rock against his hand.

Abruptly, Levi slipped his fingers away from her, but before Mikasa could feel disappointment, Levi slid down her body and replaced his fingers with his mouth.

Mikasa bucked against him, her hips jerking so violently that Levi had to use his hands to still them. Once he had her thighs securely pinned, he began to drink from her, his tongue sweeping against her in flat strokes and circles, alternating pressure and speed. Mikasa watched him at first, marveling at how erotic it was to watch him kiss her there, wondering if she looked as erotic when she drank from his neck.

When he began to use his fingers in conjunction with his mouth, however, Mikasa fell back against the bed, overcome with the overload of sensation.

And then, suddenly, the tightening in her body reached a tipping point and everything began to uncoil in a brilliant, unexpected shock wave that ripped a startled gasp of pleasure from Mikasa’s throat and drew an answering, shocked groan from Levi.

When she was able to blink her eyes open however much later, she saw Levi staring at her with that same boyish wonder she’d seen earlier. His body was shaking as much as hers, and she could hear the stutter of his heart.

“Did you feel that?” She asked, her voice breathy in a way it had never been before.

Levi nodded. “That's never…” He shook his head. “I _felt_ you, Mikasa, almost like I was the one…” He shuddered. “I didn’t realize the bond was so strong for me,” he added. “But…” He looked down at her, the boyishness leaving his features as his hunger returned. “I want you.” The words were both certain and supplicating, spoken with dangerous promise. “So fucking much.”

Mikasa leaned up and kissed him. She could taste herself on his tongue, but despite the strangeness, it only fueled her desire. Mimicking what he’d done to her earlier, Mikasa reached for his pants and began to push them down. Levi helped her, standing up briefly to kick them off and toss his shirt over his head.

Through the haze of their combined need, Mikasa felt a brief swell of tenderness at the sight of Levi’s scarred skin, her eyes drawn to all of the reminders of the suffering he’d endured. The only other time she’d seen his bare form, he’d been asleep, but now, Levi crawled towards her and once more eased her down on the bed. “It’s all right,” he said, knowing where her train of thought had gone. “We all have our fair share of scars.”

Mikasa gently trailed her hand over the faint white lines on his neck. “But you’ve suffered more than most,” she said, compassion making the words stick in her throat. “Enough for a lifetime.”

Levi caught the hand that was touching his scars and brought it to his lips. “So have you,” he murmured as he kissed her knuckles. “But here we are.” He released her hand and reached down between them, teasing her clit with a practiced hand until fresh wetness began to coat his fingers. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, his dark gaze riveted to her face, watching her reactions as he stirred her desire.

When Mikasa felt him change positions, parting her legs with his own and bringing the shaft of his cock against her, she shuddered in naive anticipation. Levi rubbed himself against her and Mikasa bit her lip to suppress a whine, caging it behind her teeth as a wave of pleasure rocked through her.

“ _Please…_ ” She breathed, not really knowing what she was asking for but knowing she needed it. She was aching, empty, wanting, the dual nature of her hunger threatening to drive her mad if Levi didn’t find a way to satisfy her craving.

And then he moved lower, pressing into her instead of along her outer lips, and Mikasa’s breath caught as she felt him gain entry and push deeper. He was gentle and slow, moving inch by inch as her body stretched in an unfamiliar way, soothing her with open-mouthed kisses to her neck as she tensed beneath him and murmuring words of encouragement as she gradually relaxed.

Mikasa felt fuller than she’d ever felt as he at last settled completely within her. Her lips trembled. “Levi…”

He pulled out just as slowly, almost completely leaving her body before he once more pressed home. He repeated the motion, continuing at the halting, frustratingly slow pace until Mikasa raised her hips and let her fangs descend.

Her eyes flashed as she caught his gaze. _More,_ she demanded. _Give me more._

She channeled her desire through their blood bond, sending a surge of lust through their connection, and Levi’s already dark gaze turned animalistic. He thrust into her much harder than he had initially, drawing a satisfied gasp from Mikasa’s lips, and then he was moving faster, more violently than before.

It still wasn’t enough.

Mikasa’s fangs were burning, itching to pierce and drink, the need so dire that it was almost painful.

Levi drove himself deep and paused, her desire mirrored in his eyes. “Do it,” he growled between his teeth. “Please…”

Mikasa leaned up and found his jugular, pressing her mouth over the lines the titan had left. _No one gets to mark you but me,_ she thought, and then she opened her mouth wide and sank her fangs in deep.

The answering moan that tore from Levi’s throat was so broken and intimate that Mikasa couldn’t help but suck greedily from the pinpricks she’d made, but even then, she nearly lost her hold on him as Levi began to move inside of her with abandon. His thrusts grew shorter and faster until he was pounding away at her for all he was worth, and Mikasa drank from him until the world began to spin around her.

She could hear the sounds of their joining in her ears, could hear their mingled breaths and groans and the frenzied drumbeat of Levi’s heart, and the feeling of drinking from him while he took her so ruthlessly was indescribable. Both of them possessing each other, both of them being possessed...Mikasa had never felt anything even close to it before.

When Levi began to swell within her, Mikasa drew her fangs from his neck to release a pent-up cry, and then she dug her fingers into his shoulders as Levi hoisted her legs up higher on his back and pushed himself as deeply inside of her as he could go. He thrust into her two more times and then spasmed, the force of his release triggering her own and pushing Mikasa over the edge a second time.

They stayed like that for a suspended moment, joined as deeply as possible, pressed flush against each other and panting, both of them coated with a sheen of sweat. Pleasurable aftershocks pulsed through Mikasa, and she could feel Levi’s as well, as fiercely as if they were natural extensions of her own.

When his heartbeat slowed slightly, Levi pulled back and slipped his spent cock from her, making Mikasa whimper as he slid against her hypersensitive flesh.

She gazed up at him through a haze. “Is it…always like that?” She asked.

“No,” Levi said eventually. “It’s not. This was…” He ran a hand through his mussed hair as he rolled off of her and sat up. “Something different.” He touched his fingers to the tiny pinpricks on his neck. They were still dripping blood, and his fingers came away red.

Mikasa sat up and reflexively grabbed his hand, licking his fingers clean. Levi watched her, shuddering as her tongue slid up and down his index finger. “Careful,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp.

Mikasa licked her lips and gave him a wicked smile. She could feel the spark of desire her actions had caused, and she relished it more than she thought she would. “Or what?” She teased.

“Are you sure you feel healed?” He asked.

Mikasa wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “Yes,” she assured him. “I told you earlier, I feel fine. Strong.”

A dark smile teased at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he said, and then he tossed her onto all fours with a surprising show of strength and proceeded to show her exactly what ' _or what'_ entailed.  

 

**

It was impossible to tell what time it was when she woke up, but Mikasa guessed that a good number of hours must have passed between now and whenever she and Levi had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep after…

She sat up in bed, a lazy smile forming on her face as she took in the sight of the rumpled bed sheets and the sprawled form of Levi sleeping next to her. He was facedown, his limbs stretched out haphazardly, and his mop of overgrown hair was sticking out like someone had zapped it with an electric current. Knowing that her hair was most likely in a similar state of disarray only made Mikasa’s smile widen.

Her small movements roused Levi, and he blinked his eyes open, glancing up at her sleepily before he sighed and pushed himself up to a seated position. “Morning,” he rasped.

“Good morning.”

The expression on his face held a peaceful kind of familiarity as he looked at her, and it made Mikasa think of something she’d meant to ask him the other day.

Levi sensed that she had a question before she voiced it. “What is it?” He asked.

Mikasa shifted slightly on the bed. “I told you I didn’t overhear much of your conversation with Kai, and that was true. But I did hear something I wanted to ask you about.” She swallowed. “Kai asked if you…if you…” She couldn’t get the words past her lips. Even after everything they’d been through over the past few months, even after the intimacy they’d shared last night, Mikasa feared that her own feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

_And where will we go from here if he doesn’t feel the same way I do?_

The possibilities scared her.

“Oi. Mikasa.”

Reluctantly, Mikasa met his gaze.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll be honest with you, no matter what it is.”

_That’s what I’m afraid of._

She took a breath. “Kai asked—”

Two urgent knocks sounded on Levi’s door.

Both of them jumped a little, the suddenness of the intrusion startling them. When two more knocks sounded, they clambered out of bed, hastily pulling on their discarded clothes from the previous night.

Mikasa barely had time to smooth her hair down before Levi opened the door.

Dr. Arlert was standing there, and Mikasa could tell, just from the urgent, panicked look on his face, that he wasn’t there with good news.

He looked past Levi without saying anything to him. “Mikasa,” he called to her. “You need to come with me now. If you don’t, they’ll send soldiers for you and drag you out of here in chains.”

Mikasa felt her fangs and claws stir at the implied threat. “What?” She asked, startled. “Why?”

“You’re to face a tribunal today,” he said. “Depending on the outcome, the Council will then decide what to do with you.”

Levi barred the door with his arm. “Like hell that’s going to happen,” he snarled. “Let the soldiers come. I can already tell you who will win that fight.”

The doctor didn’t back down in the face of Levi’s hostility. “Please listen to me,” he insisted. “I know this is a terrible situation, but if Mikasa doesn’t come willingly, this will turn into a blood bath.” He paused. “And even if you do win,” he continued when Levi made no move to yield, “the people will deem you – _all_ of you – a threat and vote to have every single Maria survivor turned out. You’ll doom your entire group.”

Mikasa put a hand on Levi’s arm. “He’s right, Levi. We need to do this their way.”

Levi shot her a look like she was crazy. “And then what, Mikasa? Let them decide to give you the bleeds a second time?”

Mikasa swallowed against her rising fear. “We’ll plead my case and tell our story,” she said. She looked at Dr. Arlert, searching for a silver lining. “Do you think there is a chance I will be pardoned?” She asked levelly.

There was no hesitation in his answer, but the flatness in his blue eyes belied the hope he tried to give her. “Yes, I do. There are a great many stubborn people here, but there are also people with vision who will listen to you with open ears. I believe you have a chance. What you don’t have,” he added firmly, “is a choice.”

Mikasa nodded and pried Levi’s arm away from the door. “Then I’ll come with you,” she said to the doctor, which elicited a bout of vehement protestations from Levi.

She turned back to him and silenced him with a look. “We’ve been through worse,” she said, trying to be brave.

 _Bullshit,_ his eyes screamed, but he nodded tersely. “I’ll go talk to the others. We’ll come up with a game plan to get you out of this shit.”

“We have to go _now_ ,” Dr. Arlert insisted.

Mikasa took a steadying breath. “Very well,” she said, and she followed the blond man out into the hallway, trying to resist the urge to run, to fight, even as her sense of intuition filled her with the sickening feeling that she wasn’t really heading to a trial.

She was heading to an execution.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this long delayed update! Random note: that scene (y'all know which one I'm talking about) is the longest single scene in this entire story, clocking in at over 7500 words--that's about the length of some of the shorter chapters! So even though this update was 2+ months coming, I hope that made up for it a bit. (This is also the longest chapter in the entire story, if you were wondering, and the final two chapters will not be as long.)
> 
> Also, for the record, finally writing a smut scene after a nearly 200k word slow burn is STRESSFUL. I hoped it lived up to the hype, even a little... ~~(lol don't judge me, I tried)~~
> 
> See you next time! :)


	21. The Trial

_Truth is so often simply that which we choose to believe; truth is rarely a reflection of things as they are._

\- Reflection taken from the prison diary of Nadya Beaumont, former Reaper of the Original Order and condemned traitor, dated 450 B.T.

**

 

The courtroom was buzzing with excitement, the large circular space packed like never before. People were crammed into the three civilian sections like sardines, scrunched shoulder to shoulder, and the latecomers were standing in the aisles, wedged into every available inch of space. Some of the more aggressive onlookers were pushing their way down towards the rows closest to the center of the courtroom, causing others to stumble and curse as they bulled their way through.

Dazed by the deafening din and the air of excitement permeating the space, Charlotte simply allowed Nancy to tug her along by the arm, following blindly.

She was so distracted by the chaos around them that she only realized Nancy had come to a stop when she bumped into the other girl.

“Hey,” Nancy said, casting her an angry look. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Charlotte murmured.

They were in the very top row, far from the center of activity, and it wasn’t until Nancy beckoned for Charlotte to step up onto the bench that she was able to see anything.

The adults closest to the girls gave them disproving looks, but no one told them to leave, and Charlotte swallowed down her anxiety.

 _We’re not going to get in trouble,_ she tried to convince herself. _It’s going to be fine._

No one under the age of sixteen had been invited to the trial, but she and Nancy weren’t the only underage children to sneak in. As Charlotte gazed around the room, she spotted some of their classmates and friends sandwiched between the older adults, hiding in plain sight, and no one was scolding them or escorting them out. And Charlotte knew why: the simple fact was that no one wanted to miss out on the most exciting thing to happen since Rose had shut its gates six years ago.

Feeling more at ease about their rule breaking, Charlotte turned her attention to the doors at the top of the courtroom to their right, watching as they opened and the Council members began to file in. The men entered first, dressed in their black robes, followed by the women, filling in the rows from the bottom to the top but leaving the lowest row empty, as was customary. Once they were all seated, Governor Reiss appeared, heavy gavel in hand, followed by Commander Ramirez and Commander Smith.

They took the front row, and Governor Reiss held up his hand.

The cacophony dwindled to a susurrus and then ceased, and once everyone had fallen silent, the governor and commanders took their seats, and the civilians followed suit.

Charlotte and Nancy sat down too, though Charlotte sat on her knees, needing the extra few inches of height to see past the taller people sitting on the row directly below her. From a hidden door at the bottom of the courtroom, a guard entered.

Governor Reiss nodded to him, and the man disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with his prisoner, and Charlotte got her first glimpse of a real-life vampire.

So did everyone else, and cries and screams broke out across the courtroom.

Governor Reiss banged his gavel onto the railing in front of him. “Silence!” He ordered, and slowly, the cries fizzled out. He beckoned the guard and prisoner forward. “Bring it in,” he said.

The guard shoved the vampire ahead of him, leading it to a wooden box of sorts in the middle of the floor that Charlotte had once heard someone refer to as a defendant’s cage. The guard ushered the vampire through the half door and locked it inside without a word. The box was only waist high, constructed to keep prisoners in place while allowing the audience to observe them. Usually, prisoners were left to stand there without any other restraints, but for this unique situation, Charlotte watched as the guard fastened a chain to the joint connecting the vampire’s handcuffs and bolted it to a small iron ring on the top rail of the defendant’s cage.

The vampire let itself be restrained, its face emotionless even as the guard yanked on its chains to test their secureness.

Charlotte watched it all with wide eyes, feeling oddly mesmerized by the vampire. It looked almost human and it was sort of pretty, really, with its pale skin and dark hair and slender frame. Charlotte couldn’t see any claws or fangs from where she was sitting, though she did catch a glimpse of its black eyes as its gaze traveled around the courtroom—the only discernible sign that the creature was not human.

“It’s hideous, isn’t it?” Nancy whispered next to her.

 _Not really,_ Charlotte thought with a frown. “I guess,” she said.

“State your name,” Govern Reiss ordered down below, his eyes on the vampire before him.

“Mikasa,” it spoke.

“Last name?”

A pause. “My clan name is Ayume, sir.”

Governor Reiss gestured to his secretary to make a note of it. “Then I, Governor Reiss, Protector of Fortress Rose, hereby call this tribunal to order.” His words echoed throughout the courtroom. “Two days ago, survivors from Fortress Maria arrived at our gates,” he continued. “With them was the accused—a vampire and known enemy to humankind, who was admitted inside our walls under some duress. Our duty now is to reach a decision about how to proceed. We will listen to witness testimonies in support and opposition of the accused, after which time votes will be cast and a verdict will be reached.” The governor glanced to his left. “Commander Ramirez, you volunteered to make an opening statement on behalf of the prosecution. The floor is yours.”

Charlotte watched as the tattooed commander of the Military Police stood up, shrinking slightly in her seat even though the imposing woman’s attention was not on her.

“People of Rose,” she began. “Since long before Year Zero, vampires have been our mortal enemies. They require our blood to survive and they have attacked and murdered us ruthlessly throughout the ages. The creation of the titans six years ago has not changed the nature of vampires. This creature standing before you now is a threat to our safety and to our future. Granting it asylum here would put the citizens of Rose – yourselves and your children – in danger.” She paused, glancing around the courtroom at the gathered crowd. “We have endured so much and lost so much because of vampires. Think back—remember your losses. Remember why the _Titan_ vaccine was created in the first place. If we allow a vampire to live, or worse, allow it to coexist with us here at Rose, we would be doing a grave disservice to all those who gave their lives to protect us from its kind, and we would be welcoming a predator into our midst. So, citizens of Rose and members of the Council, I urge you to stand firm in the convictions we’ve held dear for generations and continue to put our safety and well being above any compassion you might feel for this creature and its plight.” She paused as her gaze drifted to the row reserved for the Maria survivors, and even from her perch in the top row, Charlotte could see the tension in the commander’s hands as she gripped the railing in front of her. “In conclusion, I ask that you find this creature guilty of that which it cannot deny: its nature as a blood drinker and killer of humans—its nature as a vampire.”

She sat down to a chorus of _here, here!_ and _kill the vampire!_

“Thank you, Commander Ramirez,” Reiss intoned, silencing the crowd. “And now for the defense.” He turned to the right, gesturing towards the row of Maria survivors. “Levi, you requested to give the opening statement on behalf of the vampire. The floor is yours.”

As soon as the short, dark-haired man stood up, a rash of hushed whispers broke out in the courtroom, and Governor Reiss once more had to pound his gavel against the railing to call for silence.

“You didn’t tell me that _he_ was the Reaper from Maria!” Nancy squealed excitedly in Charlotte’s ear.

Charlotte gave her friend a look. “I didn’t know,” she said. “He didn’t come in with the rest of them.” She looked around at all the people still pointing and gawking and surreptitiously whispering about the man. “Why is everyone so worked up about him?” She asked Nancy quietly.

“Seriously?” Her friend gave her a stupefied look. “That’s _the_ Captain Levi, leader of the Elite Five,” she revealed. “People say he’s the strongest Reaper since Damon’s time. They say he’s singlehandedly killed more vampires than the rest of the Reapers combined.”

Charlotte looked down at the man again, and decided that she didn’t doubt it. She’d seen a Reaper once before, a man named Thom, and as intimidating as he’d been, that Reaper didn’t even come close to matching the intensity of this one. Captain Levi, from his bearing to his unwavering, piercing gaze, looked every inch the notorious killer Nancy claimed he was.

 _So why,_ Charlotte wondered, _is he the one defending the vampire?_

As if in response to her unspoken question, the Reaper began to speak. “In my years of service to the Legion, first as a soldier and later as a Reaper, I killed well over a hundred vampires,” he said. “And of those kills, I never regretted a single one. I was brought up hating their kind just like the rest of you, taught that they are our enemies and should be shown no mercy. When I crossed paths with Mikasa shortly after the destruction of Fortress Maria, I only spared her life because I saw how effective she was at killing titans and I sought to use her to my people’s advantage. I blackmailed her into escorting us to Rose, stole her heart and inflicted physical pain on her in order to bend her to my will.” There was a strange harshness creeping into his tone, one that Nancy could only describe as disgust. Whether it was directed at the vampire or himself was less certain.

“I treated her like a dog, and my intent was to kill her after she’d served her purpose. But things changed. For the first time in my life, I found myself working alongside a vampire instead of fighting one. Mikasa may not have been a willing ally at first, but from day one, she saved lives. She repeatedly put herself in harm’s way to protect us, and many of the people you see sitting here—” he gestured to the Maria survivors “—are only here because of her.” His gaze flickered briefly to the chained vampire. “And if you think that she acted as she did only to save herself, you are mistaken. A few months into our journey, we encountered a group of vampires. If Mikasa had given the word, they would have attacked and killed us, but she didn’t. She protected us.” He paused. “The vampires offered Mikasa a place in their group, but she declined their invitation. Why? Because she cared about us. She cared enough to throw away a chance to be with her own people in order to make sure we were safe. For that, I returned the heart I stole from her and told her to leave with them. She resisted at first, but I insisted, so she went.” He paused, and even from her seat high in the courtroom, Nancy could see the Reaper’s throat bob as he swallowed.

“But Mikasa came back,” he went on. “She had her freedom and she’d found her own people, but in spite of that, she _came back_. People of Rose: this vampire is only standing here before you because she chose to be loyal to me and to the survivors from Maria. She chose to be a guardian to us, and I speak for my entire group when I say that she is one of us. All I ask is that you give her the chance she deserves, the chance she’s earned.” He paused. “I'll conclude with one final thought,” he added. “I've commanded many soldiers over the years, taken many men and women into combat. Among those hundreds of capable soldiers, a small number have stood out for their strength, their courage, their loyalty, and I count Mikasa among them.” His gaze drifted towards the chained vampire, his eyes and voice softening in such a way that Charlotte got the impression that he was speaking more to her than to the court at large. “Vampire or not, there is no one I'd rather fight beside than her. I trust Mikasa with my life, and if I could take her place in this trial, I would. I, a Reaper, value her that much.” He looked back towards the Council. “I ask that you open your ears to the testimonies you’ll hear today and grant Mikasa asylum. She is already family in our eyes. Let her be so in yours.” 

There was silence in the courtroom when he finished speaking, and as Charlotte looked around at the gathered crowd, she saw a myriad of shocked, confused, and troubled faces. The chorus of support that had been audible after Commander Ramirez’s opening statement was noticeably absent.

“Thank you, Levi,” Governor Reiss stated. “Now we will here testimonies both in opposition of and on behalf of the accused.”

The antis went first. There were four of them, all passionate speakers, all with tales of woe and horror caused by vampires. Charlotte found herself cringing at some of the gorier details, and it was easy to see that the older civilians shared her distaste.

“He knows how to pick them, I’ll give him that,” Nancy whispered when the third speaker, a boy of eighteen, finished telling the grizzly tale of how his baby sister had been sucked dry by a vampire when he was only eight years old.

Charlotte’s brows wrinkled. “What are you talking about?” She whispered back.

“Governor Reiss, of course,” Nancy responded. “He may be a slime ball, but he made sure to pick speakers that everyone would sympathize with.”

Charlotte processed that, frowning. “But he’s supposed to be...” She struggled to remember the word. “…Impartial,” she finished.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s not like he _wants_ the vampire to have a fair chance at winning,” she said. “And I don’t blame him. I think Commander Ramirez is crazy for even letting it inside our walls.”

Charlotte looked down at the vampire again, trying to view the situation from Nancy’s perspective. In the end, though, she couldn’t. The thing just didn’t look evil.

“Order, order!” Reiss was shouting, the loud smack of his gavel against the railing in front of him shaking Charlotte out of her thoughts.

Whatever the fourth speaker had said while she and Nancy were whispering had caused an uproar, but the din faded to a simmer in the wake of the governor’s shouting.

“We will now hear from the defense,” Reiss continued, gesturing towards the Maria group. “You may begin.”

The hair on Charlotte’s neck rose as the two-faced man stood up, her mouth going dry with fear as she looked at him.

She wasn’t the only one. Gasps and exclamations rippled through the courtroom, and within seconds, people were shouting for the guards to do something and hurling slander at the strange man. Cries of _titan!_ and _vampire!_ were the most numerous.

To Charlotte’s surprise, it was Commander Ramirez who stood and called for order this time. The people quieted immediately, clearly more intimidated by the austere woman than by Reiss. Charlotte shrunk back when she felt Ramirez’ acidic glare travel over the row she and Nancy were occupying.

“That is enough,” she said, the measured clip of her voice doing nothing to mask the coldness behind the words. “This court will not tolerate such behavior. Clio Jones is not on trial, and if any of you degrade the proceedings here by shouting obscenities and making a mockery of our judicial system, you will answer to me.” She paused, her gaze scouring the crowd. “For those of you who are unaware, the man standing before you is _Lieutenant_ Clio Jones, a respected soldier of the former Legion who, like so many other brave hunters, volunteered to be a recipient of the _Titan_ vaccine six years ago. Despite his altered appearance, Clio Jones remains human, as you can well see by his bearing. He is sound of mind and should be shown the respect he deserves. Reflect on what he has done in service to humanity, and remember how _you_ are expected to act at official proceedings such as this—lest I be forced to aid your memory.” Her eyes flickered to the man in question. “Lieutenant,” she said with a brief nod of her head, indicating that he could begin.

“Thank you, Commander Ramirez,” Jones replied. He took a breath and surveyed the crowd. “ _‘Reflect on what he has done in service to humanity’_ ,” he said, repeating the commander’s words. “Insightful words. Wise words.” He stepped out of the front row and onto the floor, beginning to walk around as he spoke. “Indeed, we should all reflect on our deeds.” He paused before a row of observers, watching them calmly as they shrunk back from him. “Appearance can be jarring, I know,” he said, stepping back and giving the squirming citizens some breathing room. “However, appearance is not what defines us.” He paused. “Ever since I volunteered for the vaccine, people have looked on me with fear and mistrust, even people I once felt close to. I became the Mutt, and that was all anyone bothered to see.” A flicker of pain crossed his mismatched eyes. “But this—” he said, gesturing to his face, “—never changed this.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “I am still the man I was, just as Commander Ramirez said on my behalf moments ago, and I am not on trial.” He continued walking. “However, if I were on trial, I would want you to judge me based on my deeds, on my actions, not on features that mutated beyond my control.” He paused, turning to face the section where the Council members were seated. “Are there any among you who disagree? Are there any among you who think a person on trial ought to be judged and condemned according to their appearance instead of according to their character?”

Reiss gave a dismissive wave. “We are not here to banter ethics and speak of philosophical matters, Lieutenant,” he said, a slight sneer in his tone. “Make a relevant point or take a seat.”

“I beg your indulgence,” Jones replied smoothly. “What I am speaking of does have relevancy to this case, as you will see momentarily.”

Reiss leaned back. “I had better.”

“People of Rose, here is what I am getting at: take Commander Ramirez’s words and apply them here, to Mikasa. Reflect on what she has done in service to humanity, and judge her based on that instead of on her appearance.” He slowed his steps. “You see, if Mikasa were human, this trial would not be happening. She would have been praised, lauded, considered a hero by all of you. Well, discard your prejudices! A pair of fangs doesn’t change the fact that she _is_ a hero. She may be different than us, but that does not make her evil. And I can prove it.” He turned back to his comrades. “My fellow Maria citizens, I ask your help in a demonstration. I would like any of you who feels threatened or endangered by Mikasa to stand.”

Silence descended in the courtroom as everyone waited, all eyes trained on the Maria citizens, but after a prolonged moment of bated breath, it became clear that no one was going to stand up.

“There you have it,” Jones said slowly, punctuating each word for dramatic effect. “Not even one person.” He paused before once more addressing his comrades. “All right, let's change things up. I would now like any of you who owes your life to Mikasa to stand.”

One by one, the Maria survivors rose from their seats, until every single one of them was standing. Charlotte’s eyes widened at their show of solidarity.

Clio Jones turned to the gathered crowd and spread his arms open. “Ladies and gentlemen, there you have it: thirteen humans who owe their life to the vampire standing chained before you. Thirteen living examples of Mikasa’s services to humanity.” He paused, letting his words and the powerful visual display sink in.

 _He’s good at this,_ Charlotte mused, feeling somewhat swayed herself.

“Thank you,” Jones said, gesturing for the Maria group to retake their seats. Once they did, he continued. “Now, I realize that many of you feel that this is not enough, that by her mere nature as a vampire, Mikasa should be condemned. Well, that is where you are showing prejudice and greatly skewed bias, neither of which has a place in this courtroom.” He turned to the Council members. “I have always believed in our judicial system and in the fairness of the courts. In fact, I found myself fascinated by trials growing up. I attended as many as I could and researched even more, and despite the various outcomes, there was one commonality between them all: each accused person was judged solely based on the evidence brought to light in court. Each was judged according to his own actions. I never saw a man judged for crimes committed by his family or friends, or by humanity at large.” He arched a brow. “Am I mistaken about these conclusions?”

“Of course not,” Reiss answered, clearly irritated by the lieutenant. “Get to your point.”

Charlotte saw the two-faced man’s lips tilt up, as if he were vaguely amused by the governor’s irritation.

“My point is this, people of Rose,” he said, turning back to face the gathering at large. “Judge Mikasa according to our laws and traditions. Just as this court would never condemn a man for the crimes of another, it stands to reason that this court also cannot condemn Mikasa for the crimes committed by other vampires. She is not on trial for her species; she is on trial for herself. The accounts of violence you've heard so far today from the opposition have been moving - poignant and tragic and terrible - but Mikasa was not responsible for any of those acts; do not let the pain and pity you feel for those who shared their stories transfer into hatred for Mikasa. Hear this instead: from the moment I met her, I knew Mikasa had a heart capable of great love and compassion, and she proved it time and again during our journey. I watched her save the lives of my fellow citizens and listened to her give prudent counsel to Captain Levi. She has been a leader and a friend, and I am grateful to know her.” He turned slightly to give the vampire a tender smile, and Charlotte, greatly surprised, saw a sheen of tears glistening in the vampire's dark eyes.

For a confusing moment, Charlotte felt sympathy for the vampire. She tried to harden her heart, tried to remember all the bad things about vampires, but all she could see was a girl on the verge of tears, and that was very, well... _human._

“Before I give the floor to my comrades,” Jones was saying, “I would like to once again urge this court to judge Mikasa based on her character and actions _alone._ Listen to the rest of the testimonies and then judge her based on only that which pertains specifically to her. Prove that this court has the integrity and impartiality I’ve always believed it to have. That is all.”

Governor Reiss was practically seething as Jones retook his seat. He took a moment to calm himself, then jerked his head towards the other Maria survivors. “The rest of you may offer your testimonies now,” he said tersely.

The Maria citizens spoke amongst themselves for a moment, ostensibly to decide on an order for their testimonies, and after a brief deliberation, a small bald man stood up, his gaze skittering timidly around the courtroom. “My—my name is Connie,” he said, and Charlotte wondered how someone who seemed so scared to speak in front of people had ever survived outside in the wild.

“My fiancée Sasha would be here with me, but she just gave birth to our daughter,” the man went on. “She’s better with words than I am, but I promised her I would speak for both of us today.” He clasped his hands in front of him and took a breath. “Mikasa is, well…from the very first night we met her, she’s been like a guardian angel to us,” he said. “She protected us from a titan before she even knew who we were, and later, she defended us and was badly wounded while doing so. I offered her my blood as thanks, but she didn’t take it. She didn’t want any thanks at all.” His voice grew stronger. “If it weren’t for Mikasa, my daughter would never have been born. My family would have no future. We wouldn’t even have our lives. It doesn’t matter that she’s a vampire; she _saved_ us.” He looked at the chained vampire. “Mikasa, I’ll never be able to find the words to tell you how grateful I am for all you’ve done, but after speaking with Sasha, we both decided that no matter what happens here, we want you to be Olivia’s godmother. We—we couldn’t think of anyone better to watch over her.” He looked back towards the Council members and cleared his throat. “Er, thank you,” he said. He sat down.

The next person to speak was the one-armed girl Charlotte had given the note to at the welcome dinner.

“I hated Mikasa when I first met her,” she began, her hard voice booming throughout the courtroom. “So much so that I plotted behind my captain’s back to kill her. I thought I was doing the right thing.” She paused. “I spent most of my waking moments watching her while I waited for the opportune moment to get rid of her, but the more I watched her, the more I realized that killing her would be a shit idea.”

“Language,” Reiss chastised, shooting the maimed girl a harsh look.

“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I realized killing her would be a _disastrous_ idea,” she amended. “You see, I hate vampires just as much as all of you probably do, but Mikasa was one of the only things standing between us and death, and I begrudgingly had to admit that to myself. She fought for our lives just as hard as any human among our numbers, and she didn’t hold it against us when we treated her like shit.” She paused. “Like garbage, I mean,” she corrected before Reiss could once more call her out for inappropriate language. “Sorry. Anyway, Mikasa was never spiteful, never vindictive, and even in the beginning, when it was clear she wanted to bite Cap’s head off for stealing her heart and basically enslaving her, Mikasa never raised a hand against me or anyone else. She just did her best to protect us. She’s pretty much a saint, and if someone as stubborn as me can realize that, all of you should be able to, too.”

“One arm or not, I would _not_ want to get on her bad side,” Nancy whispered in Charlotte’s ear as the tall girl retook her seat.

Charlotte didn’t disagree. All of the Maria group were intimidating in their own way…except for maybe the short bald man, but even though public speaking hadn’t been his forte, there had still been resilience in his gaze.

One by one, Charlotte listened as the other Maria survivors spoke on the vampire’s behalf, and by the time the last one had taken their seat, it was clear that the atmosphere in the courtroom had changed. Many people were still whispering and pointing, but the fearful and hateful looks had dwindled down to a scant few, replaced by confusion and compassion.

“I think she’s going to win,” Charlotte admitted to her friend.

Nancy nodded. “I think you might be right.”

Reiss looked decidedly unhappy as he surveyed the crowd, but then, when a guard entered the room and came over to whisper something in his ear, his dissatisfaction turned to smugness. He held up a hand and the room quieted. “It has just come to my attention that there is one more who wishes to testify on behalf of the prosecution,” he revealed. “I realize it is late in the proceedings, but I am inclined to honor this request. Please welcome Corporal Becker.”

Charlotte watched as the doors at the far end of the courtroom opened and a handsome, muscular soldier walked in. She’d seen him before, and she knew who he was—everyone did. Rolfe Becker was an up-and-comer in the Military Police, a man with lots of ambition who was admired by many. There were rumors that he’d been expecting to be promoted to captain, but Commander Ramirez had apparently given the open position to another candidate.

“Thank you for allowing me to testify,” Becker said as he stopped next to the defendant’s cage, giving a slight bow to Reiss. He straightened and turned his aquiline features towards the vampire, sneering disdainfully as his eyes traveled over her. Then, without warning, he lunged forward and smacked her hard across the face, the sound of his palm striking her skin reverberating through the courtroom.

A pained gasp came from the vampire, echoed by others around the courtroom.

Captain Levi was on his feet immediately, murder burning in his eyes just as the two-faced man shouted “objection!”, but before either of them could do anything more, Becker once more struck the vampire, this time with more force and a closed fist, his knuckles drawing blood.

And then he got the reaction Charlotte was certain he’d been hoping for: the vampire hissed at him, her fangs descending and the veins beneath her eyes darkening as she shifted defensively away from the corporal.

A ripple of startled gasps spread through the courtroom.

Becker smiled coldly. “You see?” He said, stepping back from her. “Beneath her calm exterior, this is what she really is.”

“Objection!” The two-faced man cried again, rising to his feet. One hand was on the railing in front of him while his free arm was restraining the Reaper. “The corporal is violating every code of conduct and is deliberately provoking Mikasa. He should be held in contempt and dragged out of this courtroom.”

“Overruled,” Reiss said evenly. “We are here today to draw out this vampire’s true nature, and while Corporal Becker’s methods may be unorthodox, I find them necessary.”

The Reaper broke free of Jones’ grasp and moved forward, his steel eyes glittering.

“One more step and I will hold _you_ in contempt, Levi,” Reiss threatened. He looked back at Becker. “You may continue as you deem fit.”

The corporal gave another obsequious bow. “Thank you, Governor Reiss.” He turned his attention to the vampire, frowning slightly as he realized she’d retracted her fangs. “Holding back now, are we?” He taunted. “Well, it makes no matter. You’ve already showed us the anger that lurks just beneath that porcelain complexion.” His handsome face roved the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you this: what do you think would have happened just now if this vampire had not been restrained?”

“Objection!” Jones cried again, his hazel eye full of fury. “Becker is speculating on something that never occurred.”

“Because the murderous creature is chained!” Becker shot back.

Once more, Reiss said smugly, “Objection overruled.”

Becker cocked a brow at the vampire. “Mikasa, is it?” He said. He waited for a beat but continued on when she gave no reply. “Tell me, then: while on this journey of yours, what form of nourishment sustained you?”

She pressed her lips together.

“You will answer the question,” Reiss commanded.

A muscle clenched in her jaw. “Blood.”

Becker smiled. “ _Human_ blood?” He pressed.

“Yes,” the vampire admitted reluctantly.

“Ah. And where did you get this human blood?” The corporal asked.

A pregnant pause followed his question. “Captain Levi,” she finally said.

Gasps and murmurs erupted throughout the courtroom, even as the Reaper sprang to his feet. “I offered my blood to her!” He shouted. “She didn’t take anything that wasn’t freely given!”

Reiss pounded the railing so hard Charlotte thought the gavel would shatter. “Guards, remove Levi from this courtroom immediately!” He glared at Levi with menace. “And if you resist,  _Captain,_ I will hold the rest of your friends in contempt as well.”

For a moment it seemed that the Reaper would defy Reiss, but before things could get more out of hand, Jones bent down and whispered something in the captain's ear. A second later, the Reaper gave a terse nod, and, still seething, reluctantly allowed himself to be led from the courtroom.

As soon as the door closed, Becker spoke again. “You see?” He said. “This vampire drank a Reaper’s blood and bent him to her will. If we allow her to stay, how many others will she corrupt? How many of your children will bear her fang marks in their skin?”

“I would never drink from a child,” the vampire said hotly, and even from her place in the back of the courtroom, Charlotte could see the way the vampire was shaking.

“So you say,” Becker replied, “but answer me this: can you survive without blood?”

The vampire once more lapsed into stony silence.

Becker chuckled cruelly. “That’s what I thought.” Then, in a louder voice: “People of Rose, this vampire has showed you her fangs. She has admitted to sinking those fangs into a human being, and she has not denied that she needs blood to survive.” He addressed the vampire once more. “If you were granted asylum here, among an entirely human population, tell me: where would you get your blood from?”

“No one but Levi,” she insisted.

Becker raised a brow. “And after you’ve drained him?” He pressed. “Who will be your next victim?”

“I would never drain Levi or anyone else!”

Becker shook his head. “Lies,” he said contemptuously. “Didn’t you all notice how pale our esteemed Reaper was? How ill and thin he looked? This vampire is murdering him.”

“Objection!” Clio Jones shouted, even as Reiss once again banged his gavel to silence him. “Captain Levi is pale because of a medical procedure that Dr. Armin Arlert performed two days ago, and he is thin because of malnourishment due to harsh conditions out in the wilderness.” He pointed to the row of Maria survivors. “Mikasa never drank from anyone but Levi, and yet if you look at us, we are all thin and pale. The corporal’s logic is inherently flawed.”

“That may be,” Reiss intoned, “but he is still correct. This vampire needs blood to survive. Human blood.” Before Jones could interject, Reiss brought the gavel down on the railing one final time and then set it aside. “This court is now adjourned for deliberation. Once deliberation has concluded, we will reconvene and deliver our verdict.”

A cacophony rose immediately in the wake of Reiss’ decision, but the governor ignored everyone and stood, the commanders and the Council following suit as was custom. A good number of them glanced back at the vampire as they filed out of the courtroom, some looking on her with pity, others with coldness.

Once they were gone, the same guard that had brought the vampire in came back and unlatched her chains from the defendant’s cage, giving her a harsh tug as he led her out.

As people stood up in the rows below and around them, Charlotte lost view of the vampire, but she stared after her anyway, lost in thought.

“C’mon,” Nancy said, nudging her. “We should leave.” When Charlotte gave no move to do as she requested, Nancy frowned. “Hey—are you okay?”

Charlotte looked over at her friend. “I wish we hadn’t come,” she said truthfully. She’d wanted to see the spectacle, wanted to be entertained and have something to gossip about, but after witnessing the treatment of the vampire, Charlotte just felt sick to her stomach.

 _She’s going to lose,_ she thought sadly. _And she doesn’t deserve to._

So much for the fairness of the courts.

 

**

Levi was pacing the narrow confines of his holding cell, trying to contain his anger, when the door at the far end of the cell block opened and a large female guard appeared, followed closely by Clio.

“Five minutes,” she said to the hybrid, and then she left the two men alone, locking the outer door behind her.

Levi stopped pacing and immediately strode forward and gripped the bars of his cell. “Well? What else did that pig of a corporal say?” He demanded.

Clio shook his head. “Too much,” he said gravely. “It was all conjecture, but it was enough to reawaken some of the fear and suspicions we’d stamped out.”

Levi’s knuckles whitened on the bars. “Did they reach a verdict?”

“Not yet.” Clio’s brows were drawn with concern. “I’m going to do my best to smooth things over, put words in the right ears.”

Levi released the bars with a growl of frustration and stepped back, placing his hands on his hips. “It won’t fucking matter,” he spat out. “Becker ruined our chances—you saw the effect his bullshit had on the crowd.”

“On the crowd, yes, but not on the Council. Not completely, anyway. I think there were many there who realized that he was reaching, that he was trying to stir up trouble where there wasn’t any. And don’t forget one very important thing.”

Levi lifted his head. “What?” He said sharply.

“Mikasa didn’t bite Becker. She didn’t even attack him. She may have bared her fangs, but she held back, and people noticed.”

Levi exhaled. He was furious and tired and beyond worried, and he wanted to rip Becker limb from limb, but he trusted Clio. “Do you honestly think there’s still a chance the votes will come down in our favor?” He asked, searching the hybrid’s eyes. _Do you even think there was one to begin with?_

“I do,” Clio said, his eyes clear of subterfuge. “We know that Reiss will vote against Mikasa, and from what you and I have discussed of Commander Ramirez, it’s fairly certain that she will as well, but you said Erwin Smith will support us. From what I observed, I also believe there's a chance that the men and women of the Council might be swayed to vote in Mikasa’s favor. I aim to speak to as many of them as I can.”

Levi shook his head. “You won’t be able to,” he said. “Council chambers will remain closed throughout the deliberation process—it’s standard procedure.”

Clio didn’t look bothered by this. “I know that, but there’s always a way,” he said confidently. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “But we need to discuss what will happen if the votes are cast and the verdict is not what we hope.”

Levi could all but feel his heart freeze in his chest. “I am not going to let them execute her,” he vowed with dark promise.

“Of course not,” Clio said immediately. “But we have to a game plan—a _smart_ game plan. If we act rashly, we could all find ourselves turned out.”

Levi bit back a curse because he knew Clio was right. Rose’s slime ball of a governor would no doubt find a way to punish all of the Maria survivors if he could; Levi knew that, despite how some of the citizens felt and despite appearances, Reiss would be much happier if they’d never showed up at his gates, and he'd be looking for an opportunity to send them packing.

“What are you suggesting?”

“If the tribunal moves for Mikasa's execution, we go along with it at the moment and then sneak Mikasa out before they have a chance to carry out her sentence.”

Levi nodded, contemplating that course of action. “And if someone sees us helping her escape?” He asked, knowing that if any of them were caught, it would be all the excuse Reiss would need to have them all convicted of treason.

Clio gave him a half smile. “You’re a Reaper, Levi, and I wasn’t known as the Wraith for no reason,” he said. “No one will see us.”

Despite his misgivings, Levi did think Clio was right. But there was still another alternative, one that didn’t have a simple answer.

“What if we lose and Reiss orders Mikasa’s immediate execution?” He asked, voicing the final, most disturbing possibility. “What then? How would we help her without damning our entire group?”

For once, Clio looked to be at a loss for words. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two long fingers. “I don’t know, Levi. I pray it doesn’t come to that.”

“But it might.”

Clio gave him a weary glance. “I know. I’ve considered it. I originally thought you might be able to intervene, but…”

“But then Reiss held me in fucking contempt,” Levi said miserably. He stepped forward and once more gripped the bars of his cell, realizing fully the ramifications of his earlier outburst. His stomach turned. “I…I won’t be able to help her,” he said as the truth dawned on him. “I’ll be stuck here when they release the verdict, completely useless.” He pressed his head against the bars. “Fuck!” He shouted. “I should’ve held my fucking temper earlier, but I…”

“It’s not your fault, Levi. Becker was out of line and Reiss acted disgracefully by letting him continue on as he did.”

“Still.”

The door at the end of the cellblock opened, cutting into their conversation, and the guard from who’d let Clio in reappeared. “Time’s up,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Desperate, Levi grabbed Clio’s sleeve through the bars. “Clio, if…”

Clio stepped in close. “I will not let her die,” he promised in a rushed whisper. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I said _let’s go_ ,” the guard repeated in irritation, crossing her arms across her expansive chest.

Clio pulled Levi’s hand from his sleeve and headed towards the guard. “Coming, ma’am,” he said.

Levi listened to the sound of their retreating footsteps and then sank down wearily against the bars of his cell. He put his head in his hands, feeling a wave of hopelessness wash over him.

He trusted Clio, and he knew the hybrid would keep his word, but a sick sense of intuition told Levi that it wouldn’t matter, that Mikasa’s fate was already sealed.

 _And you’re surprised by that?_ The taunt came in the form of Kenny’s voice. _Hell, Levi, did you really think you and some bloodsucker would get to live happily ever after or some shit? Get a grip. You’re going to lose her, just like you lost Jocelyn, just like you lose everyone.  
_

Levi squeezed his eyes shut. “Shut up,” he said to Kenny, to himself. “Just shut up.”

But no matter how hard he willed it, he could not silence his doubts.

 

**

Armin stared in shock at the trio before him, not quite able to believe his eyes. “We thought…” He began, faltering.

Brianne adjusted the clawed arm of the massive titan where it hung about her shoulders, gritting her teeth as the thing’s entire bulk shifted. “That we were dead?” She finished. “We nearly were. Multiple times.”

“Brianne saved my life,” Eren said. He was supporting the titan’s other arm, and he looked fatigued beyond words. Bruises in various colors of healing distorted his face and arms, and his green eyes were dulled by weariness. He took a breath, the exertion of holding the titan’s weight audible in his strained inhale. “It all...it all went wrong. When we finally managed to find a superior and formulate a plan, the titans saw through our trap and set one of their own. I'd been acting as bait, and they attacked me before I realized what was happening. If it hadn't been for Brianne...” He closed his eyes, trembling slightly. “I was outnumbered when Brianne showed up,” he went on. “I actually thought she was another titan at first, coming up from behind, but instead I got the best surprise of my life.” There was humble admiration in his tone and, beneath the fatigue, a trace of gratitude appeared on Eren's face, but if the muscular soldier beside him noticed it, she didn't let on. “Brianne fought off the low level titans with me,” Eren finished, “and your serum saved us after that. We had to use nearly twice what you'd hypothesized would be an adequate dosage to put this guy out.”

All Armin had to do to believe him was look at the unconscious monster draped between the two soldiers. His firsthand experience with titans was limited, but he had never even imagined that they could be so large. This one was a wall of muscle, his torso nearly as thick as a tree trunk. And the size of the talons sprouting from the ends of his arms…

Armin shuddered. “How long ago did you last dose him?”

“Before the sun went down yesterday,” Brianne answered. “We used the last doses of your tranquilizers to do it.”

A bolt of panic shot through Armin. “So long ago?” They would need to act quickly, then. “Okay. Let’s get him into one of the reinforced cells. Now.” Judging by the titan’s size and weight, even the powerful tranquilizers Armin had given them wouldn’t keep him out much longer. And if he woke up before he was securely chained…

Armin didn’t want to think of what would happen.

The strange group made their way as quickly as they could through the winding hallways and into the dungeon where Armin had once kept Eren locked up. Eren and Brianne dragged their unconscious companion along with some level of difficulty, though neither of them complained. Amidst his anxiety, Armin felt a twinge of guilt; he wanted to offer assistance, but even at his strongest, he knew he wouldn't be able to shoulder the titan’s considerable weight.

When they made it to the dungeon, Armin quickly unbolted the cell door and Brianne and Eren laid the titan inside, both soldiers releasing a pained exhale as their weary limbs were relieved of the thing's bulk.

“Wait,” Armin said as Brianne and Eren made to move away. “Bolt its wrists to the chains hanging from the wall,” he instructed, just as an extra precaution. Neither soldier questioned him. Eren lifted its wrists one by one as Brianne secured them to the heavy metal rings. Once it was done and they'd cleared the cell, Armin locked the cell door and stepped back, and only then did he take his first real exhale since Brianne and Eren’s surprise return a half hour earlier.

“Where is Commander Ramirez?” Brianne asked, breaking the silence. It had been the first sentence she’d uttered when Armin had stepped into his lab and first found them, but this time, he chose to answer her.

“In the middle of a tribunal,” Armin said. “Disturbing her now would raise questions we can’t afford to answer. We need to wait until deliberation has concluded before we speak with her.”

“Who’s on trial?” Eren asked from where he’s slumped against the nearest wall.

“A vampire who arrived along with a group of survivors from Fortress Maria. They showed up at our gates a day or two after you left.”

Brianne frowned. “Why hold a tribunal? In my experience, we execute vampires on sight.”

“This one is…different,” Armin said, not really having the heart to get into it with the soldier. His guilt over Mikasa’s fate was heavy enough; hearing yet another person condemn her wasn’t something he was ready to stomach. There would be enough of that going on in the court upstairs...which was the main reason he'd decided not to attend the tribunal.

So he changed the subject, bringing up a question he'd been meaning to ask much sooner. “What happened to Samar?”

Brianne and Eren’s silence in the wake of his question spoke volumes, and Armin knew, without hearing it, that the brown-skinned man must have met with a bad end.

“He’s gone,” Brianne finally said. She didn’t offer anything further, and Armin didn’t push for answers.

“Dr. Arlert…!”

The note of panic in Eren’s voice drew their attention. The green-eyed boy was back on his feet, staring at the cell.

Inside the cell, the titan was also on its feet, staring back at them.

Armin’s throat went dry. There had been no warning, no indication that the thing had woken up, let alone moved. The fact that a creature so massive could be so silent made Armin’s blood run cold.

As did the fact that the titan had woken up so soon after they’d imprisoned it. _If we’d been a minute slower…_

“What should we do?” Eren breathed, looking at Armin.

Armin didn’t pull his gaze from the titan. “Get two of my syringes and load them onto the extendable prod,” he ordered quietly. “I'll go and fetch more of the tranquilizer from the other lab so we can put it out again.” He would also bring a dose of his latest batch of the cure to inject it with after it was unconscious, because the sooner they were able to change this titan back into a human, the better. “And while I'm gone, Brianne...don't take your eyes off of it.”

“I won't.”

The titan’s cold, black gaze shifted to Armin. It pulled lightly on its chains, as if testing their secureness, though it made no move to try and break them. It simply tugged for a moment or two and then relaxed, and Armin found its calmness deeply unsettling.

And then its lips pulled back and it spoke, a deep rumble full of threatening promise. “Soon.”

The hairs began to rise on the nape of his neck, and Armin stepped back as a chill spread through his body. Without another word, he turned and swiftly left the dungeon, waking purposely towards his lab. Distance didn't grant him breathing room, however. _Soon_ echoed after him, lapping at his heels like a shadow he couldn't shake. 

_Soon. Soon. Soon._

It had been a promise, Armin knew, but it had also felt like a premonition, and while Armin wasn't a superstitious man, he still found himself trembling at the terror that one ominous word had brought him.

 

**

The dawn was cold, and Quintus could see his soldiers’ breath fogging in the air as they crested the hill. With a single gesture, he halted their march, then urged his horse on another step, peering down into the haze of the valley below.

While indistinct, he could see a mass of bodies moving towards them, and at their helm, another figure on horseback.

Satisfied, Quintus stilled his horse and waited.

It didn’t take long.

The titan on horseback reached Quintus first, and his maw widened into a grin. “Quintus,” he rasped. “It’s been a long time.”

 _Not long enough,_ Quintus thought. He inclined his head. “Tertius.”

The other elite gave a cackle. “Still as serious as ever, I see.”

Quintus made no reply. Out of all the elites, Tertius was by far the cruelest and most vicious. Primus appreciated Tertius’ bloodthirstiness and violence, as did Quintus, but the way Tertius relished the pain and misery of anyone who stood in his path was unprofessional.

Still, every leader needed a creature with a black heart by their side, someone capable and willing to do whatever needed to be done without hesitation or remorse.

Tertius was such a creature.

“How many are you?” Quintus asked, putting his dislike of the other elite aside.

“Four hundred strong,” Tertius answered.

Quintus nodded. “Good.” He had a similar number in his own army, and once they combined forces with Sextus, the second fortress would never stand against them. It would be over swiftly.

Quintus turned his horse. “We should ride for Sextus. It will take us days to reach our reconnaissance point.”

Tertius grumbled, even as he urged his horse alongside Quintus’s. “Primus should have set this task to the two of us. Sextus will be an unnecessary addition.”

“Primus commanded it so.”

“Yes, but Sextus is weak. He _feels._ ” The derisive emphasis on the last word was impossible to miss.

Quintus was actually inclined to agree with Tertius; Sextus was certainly the most _human_ of the elites, prone to embarrassing moments of emotion. However, he was clever and commanded a force double the size of any other elite. Like it or not, they needed him.

“He has the numbers,” Quintus stated simply.

“True.” Tertius surveyed the landscape ahead of them. “How many days do you think it will take us to reach him?”

Quintus had only traveled the distance once before. “Forty, if we take into account the heavy snows.”

Tertius gestured for one of his commanders. “Tell the army we ride for Sextus with haste. Anyone who lags behind us will be rended.”

The commander nodded and moved away, no doubt to convey Tertius’s orders.

Quintus frowned. “Most of our forces are on foot,” he said. “It will take them longer than us to reach Sextus.”

The grin reappeared on Tertius’s face. “Not if they run.” He dug a heel into his horse’s flank. “I am impatient to begin. Blood and mayhem await us, Quintus.”

Once more hiding his distaste, Quintus kicked at his own steed’s flank. “Aye,” he said, and he and Tertius rode forward, their combined army following behind them.

 

**

When the heavy doors opened and the guard led her once more into the courtroom, every seat was already filled, and there was an air of hushed stillness in the air. Mikasa took a breath and dutifully followed, her eyes flitting only briefly towards her Maria friends. Clio gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, but between his palpable anxiety and the lack of Levi’s presence, Mikasa didn’t have it in her to return the gesture.

She kept her eyes downcast for the remainder of her walk to the defendant’s cage and waited meekly as the guard once more secured her wrists in chains, not wanting to see the expression on his face or anyone else’s. She had hoped, earlier, that the testimonies on her behalf would soften the hearts of those who would soon judge her, but Corporal Becker had destroyed her chances. It was maddening, frustrating, and bitterly unfair. Were all these people really so blinded by hatred that they couldn’t see how manipulative Becker had been? Were they so deaf to truth that the words of her friends had had no impact on them?

Mikasa was afraid to look up and see the answers to those questions staring her in the face. But she had never been a coward, so she raised her eyes anyway, taking a breath to steel herself against the sea of disgusted faces she was sure to see.

To her immense surprise, however, many of the faces she saw were not filled with hatred or disgust, and some were even filled with compassion.

For the first time since Becker’s appearance, Mikasa felt a tremor of hope fill her chest.

Governor Reiss banged his gavel. “I call this tribunal back to order,” he said. His eyes met hers. “Mikasa of Clan Ayume, we have deliberated amongst ourselves and our now ready to reveal our votes and issue a verdict.” He paused. “As is customary, the Council members will give their votes first.”

Mikasa watched as a tall, robed older man stood up in the second row. “The men of the Council vote against the vampire and move for execution,” he said, the words slipping as insipidly from his lips as if he’d been reciting a dry verse of poetry.

Mikasa swallowed, feeling the small glimmer of hope she’d felt begin to fade.

“Thank you, Councilman Orwell,” Reiss said. “A vote for execution. And now we turn to the women of the Council.”

A plump, white-haired woman stood up with some measure of difficulty, her robes clinging to her expansive frame. “The women of the Council vote in favor of the vampire and move for amnesty,” she said in a reedy voice before sinking heavily back down onto the bench.

The governor's lips twisted unhappily. “Very well,” he muttered. Then, in a louder voice, “Thank you, Councilwoman Tioga. A vote for amnesty.” He shifted in his seat and shot a glare in Mikasa’s direction. “As for my vote,” he said without standing, “I side with the men of the Council and move for execution, which puts our count at two to one in favor of execution. Commander Smith, please share your vote.”

A tall blond man stood up—Levi’s friend, if Mikasa remembered correctly. He was older but still very handsome, and he moved with a grave sense of dignity. Unlike the Council members who had delivered their votes, Commander Smith looked at her before he spoke, and there was kindness in his piercing blue eyes. “I side with the Councilwomen,” he said, and Mikasa felt a wave of relief roll through her. “I vote in favor of the vampire and move for amnesty.”

Governor Reiss’ face darkened, but only slightly, as if he’d been expecting Commander Smith to vote as he had. “It seems we now have a tie,” he said. “Two votes in favor of execution and two votes in favor of amnesty.” He turned slightly and looked at the final vote caster. “Commander Ramirez, I believe the deciding vote is yours.”

Mikasa felt her throat go dry as the Latina woman she’d seen through Levi’s memories stood up. Her brown eyes weren’t filled with pain and anger as they had been when she’d been speaking with Levi, but there was no warmth there, only an emptiness that stirred Mikasa’s pity even as it roused her fear.

 _She gave the opening statement against me,_ Mikasa remembered with a sinking feeling. _And she blames me for what happened to her sister. My fate is sealed._

There was silence in the courtroom, a silence that dragged on for some moments before Mikasa realized that it was due to the fact that the commander had not yet spoken. Confused, Mikasa looked briefly around the room before glancing back at Reiss and lastly at the commander, meeting the other woman’s unreadable gaze once more.

“Yes,” Commander Ramirez finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was haltingly quiet in the stillness of the courtroom. “The deciding vote is mine.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This story officially broke 200k words!! 
> 
> On another note, I'm sorry for the abrupt ending. I went back and forth on whether or not to have a cliffhanger here and obviously opted for it in the end, mainly because of how I want to start the next chapter. I hope that you guys liked this chapter anyway! Also, side note: I usually write multiple scenes at a time to keep myself in the mindset/ mood of the story, but because of my schedule, I really had to chop this up and write in tiny spurts. I hope that doesn't show...
> 
> Anyway, only one chapter to go! See you next time! :)


	22. Some Things Never Change

_It's true that some things never change, but it is also true that some things do, and that is an important thing to remember as we make our way in this world._

\- Reflection taken from the teachings of the vampire historian Solomon of Clan Kovač, date unknown

**

 

Life had always been straightforward for Kai, even if her version of 'straightforward' didn't line up with everyone else's version of the word. She saw things in black and white and acted accordingly, and while that bothered some people, Kai didn't care. In fact, when she'd been a child, going against the grain had been more or less her default. If everyone said yes, she said no. If everyone decided a certain song was rubbish, she’d usually wind up humming the tune for days. She wasn’t into conforming, and she usually didn’t care what anyone else thought of her.

But there had been a few times, in her much younger years, that she _had_ cared.

Once, when she was seven, she'd cut her own hair. She'd wanted to look like Bladed Jax, her comic book hero, and she'd been cutting her nails for years, so surely cutting hair should have been just as easy.

It wasn't.

She’d mangled it, and she’d been so embarrassed by the mess she’d made that she’d angrily shaved off all of the remaining tufts, only stopping when she was as bald as the day she’d been born. Then she’d sat down on the bathroom floor and cried.

Jocelyn had found her like that, hours later. She hadn’t said anything at first—she’d just sat down next to Kai and draped her arms on her knees.

_“Aren’t you gonna ask?” Kai had eventually mumbled._

_Her sister had shrugged. “No. But you can tell me if you’d like to.”_

_Kai had shaken her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. “Everyone’s gonna make fun of me,” she’d muttered lamely._

_Jocelyn had raised a brow. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks, sis?”_

_It had been Kai’s turn to shrug. “I don’t. But I also don’t wanna get laughed at.”_

_At that, Jocelyn had stood up. “Well,” she’d said, “I may not be able to grow your hair back, but I think I can help you with that.”_

_And she’d picked up the scissors Kai had discarded and proceeded to cut off her long, beautiful hair. “See?” Jocelyn had said when she’d finished, giving Kai a smile and reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet. She pointed to their reflections in the mirror. “Now you’re not the only one. We’re a pair of trendsetters.”_

_“But your hair was so pretty, Joc—”_

_Jocelyn had placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder, her expression sobering. “It’s just hair,” she’d said. “It doesn’t matter. And neither do bullies. Don’t let them get to you, Kai, and don’t let their teasing or your desire to be accepted convince you to do things you don’t want to do. Just be yourself, and remember that I love you the way you are.”_

It was amazing, really; her sister had always known exactly what to say, what to do. She’d always been sure of herself, and as Kai stared at the vampire chained in the defendant’s cage, feeling the press of everyone’s eyes on her as they waited for her to give her vote, Kai wished that Jocelyn were there with her, guiding her.

But her sister was dead, just like her brother and parents. There was no one left to guide her or give her advice or stand beside her and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was alone.

And she had a decision to make.

She could sense Reiss’ impatience, but she didn’t care. He could wait, and so could the rest of them.

As she’d done countless times that day, Kai studied the vampire before her. She cut a somber figure, standing there in the dull factory-made clothes they’d given all of the Maria survivors, chained to the railing in front of her. Her black eyes were watching Kai closely, waiting, and there was tension in her posture, but there was a calmness about her too, as if she’d resigned herself to accept whatever verdict was reached.

Kai’s hands tightened into fists. Part of her wanted to take her revenge out on this vampire because of what she was, because of what her kind had done to the Ramirez family. But unlike Reiss and the men of the Council, Kai wasn’t deaf to the testimonies given on the vampire’s behalf. When she’d forced herself to put aside her anger over Levi’s betrayal and listen with open ears to what the others had said, she’d reached the surprising conclusion that, in spite of what the bloodsucker was, this particular vampire had done nothing to deserve a death sentence.

But the alternative…

Kai pursed her lips. _What do I do?_

The question seemed to stretch out before her, reaching into the unseeable distance. Part of her wished she could consult Clio Jones about it—the hybrid seemed to possess an uncanny amount of intuition, and he certainly knew how to present a case to the court. But she couldn’t talk to him, just like she couldn’t consult her long dead sister.

Unbidden, though, Jocelyn’s words to her seven-year-old self once more came to Kai.

_Don’t let them convince you to do things you don’t want to do. Just be yourself._

And suddenly, Kai knew what her vote had to be.

She took a breath. “I cannot vote in favor of granting the vampire asylum,” she said, her voice ringing out in the courtroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the governor’s face break into a smile, but it dimmed as she went on. “However,” she continued, “in light of the testimonies heard today, I also cannot vote in favor of the vampire’s execution. Therefore, I present a new vote.” She ignored the gasps and murmurs and the way Reiss’ hand tightened on his gavel. “I vote for exile; I vote that the vampire be turned out.” She paused, turning to face the Council members seated behind her. “I present this vote as a new alternative to asylum and execution, and I now urge you to reconsider your current votes.”

“This is highly irregular, Commander Ramirez,” Reiss said, seething.

Kai didn’t so much as blink. “Highly irregular, yes, but not unheard of. There is precedent for introducing an alternative sentence before all votes are cast. Would you like me to present you with examples?”

“No. I know which cases you're referring to.” Still fuming, Reiss closed his mouth and sat back in his chair, his face as red as a bloodstain.

Kai waited, watching as the Council members turned to one another and discussed the new turn of events. She knew her move had been a gamble, but she also knew it had been the right thing to do. Now, at least, the vampire’s fate was out of her hands.

Minutes went by, but finally, the deliberation ceased and Council representatives Orwell and Tioga rose once more.

Councilman Orwell nodded to Councilwoman Tioga, giving her the floor. “The women of the Council retract our earlier vote and move for exile,” she said.

Kai nodded, but her attention was focused on Orwell. After all, unless the men changed their vote, the vampire might still be executed.

The old man’s eyes darted briefly to Reiss before settling on Kai. “The men of the Council also retract our earlier vote and move for exile,” he revealed.

Hiding her reaction, Kai once again nodded. “Thank you, Council members.” She turned to Reiss and Erwin. “Governor? Commander?”

Erwin spoke first. “I too retract my earlier vote and move for exile.”

Reiss, of course, merely shook his head, still livid.

Kai turned to the court at large. “Let the record now show that all votes are cast,” she said. “Four to one in favor of exile. A majority vote has been reached.”

For a moment, Kai thought that Reiss would ignore trial procedure and mandate that the vampire be executed anyway, but instead, after shooting Kai the blackest glare he could muster, he raised his gavel one last time. “Mikasa of Clan Ayume, I hereby sentence you to be turned out. As is customary, you will be held overnight and released at dawn. Should you ever try to return to this fortress or seek refuge at any other, you will be executed for treason.” He brought the gavel down with a final _thwack_ and gestured for a guard. “Take her to a holding cell.” He stood up. “This tribunal is now concluded,” he finished, and he brushed by Kai without another word.  

 

**

Jean made his way down the empty corridors with as much stealth as he could, looking around every corner before rounding it, walking on careful, silent feet. He even held his breath a few times when he thought he heard something or someone, but each time it proved to be no more than his imagination, which had always been more active than he would’ve liked and had refused to chill the fuck out after the ordeals of the trip west.

As he reached the corridor that contained the holding cells, Jean clutched the steel rod more tightly in his hands, preparing himself, but surprisingly, there was no one there when he rounded the final corner. The place was deserted, and the heavy door leading into the cell block was unlocked.

Mikasa’s cell was at the far end of the empty block, and the walk there was long and dark, the hall lit only by a few dim fluorescent lights. When Jean finally reached the vampire’s cell, he drew in a breath.

“Clio?”

The hybrid and Mikasa were seated together on the floor and had been speaking in low tones, but they paused their conversation once they noticed Jean.

Jean lowered the steel rod. “Where…where’s the guard?” He managed.

Clio smiled wanly at the makeshift weapon before meeting Jean’s eyes. “I bribed him,” he explained. “Though to be honest, he didn’t need much persuading. He was at the trial and I don’t think he agrees with how Mikasa was treated. He was very agreeable when I asked for permission to keep her company tonight.” Clio paused. “I assume that’s why you’re here as well?”

Jean nodded. “Yeah.” He looked over at Mikasa. “I just…it seemed wrong that you’d be alone tonight.”

The vampire gave him a smile. “That’s very kind of you, Jean.” She gestured to the cell door. “Please, come in. It’s unlocked.”

Jean moved forward and took a spot on the floor opposite Mikasa and Clio, leaning back against the wall. His mouth twisted as he looked at the vampire. “This isn’t right,” he muttered, his earlier anger resurfacing. “That trial was a joke.”

Mikasa raised her shoulders in a slight shrug, but the gesture seemed somewhat forced. “Honestly,” she said, “it turned out better than I was expecting it to.”

Jean frowned at her choice of words. _Turned out._ “You know what it means, right? Your sentence?” He asked.

Mikasa gave a sidelong glance at Clio and nodded. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I know what it means.”

Jean looked at Clio. “And you’re okay with this? You’re okay with the fact that Mikasa can never again set foot in a human fortress— _any_ human fortress?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it,” the hybrid answered. “But my being unhappy doesn’t change the verdict, Jean.”

Jean crossed his arms and looked down at the floor. “I know that.” He exhaled. “I just—”

“Well shit, who would’ve thought _I’d_ be the one late to this little party?”

Jean blinked, startled to see Ymir standing just outside the cell. She opened the door and closed it behind her, then leaned back against it. “So what’s the plan?” She asked, directing the question at Clio.

Mikasa answered. “There’s no plan, Ymir,” she said. “I’m going to leave at dawn as I was ordered to, and I’ll stay away.”

Ymir waved an incredulous arm at Clio. “And you’re just going to let her?”

Clio made a face. “Why does everyone keep insinuating that I have control over Mikasa’s actions?”

“Because you’re the boss,” Ymir replied simply. “What you say goes.”

A look of genuine surprise bloomed in Clio’s hazel eye, and a moment later, he chuckled lightly. “That’s a nice sentiment—especially coming from you, Ymir, but this is Mikasa’s decision, and I respect it. You both should do the same.”

Mikasa tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “If I obey the verdict, then all of you will get to stay. You’ll be safe, and you’ll be with your own kind.” Her gaze shifted between the three of them. “You all deserve that much and more, after everything you’ve been through.”

“After everything _we’ve_ been through,” Jean corrected. “Don’t exclude yourself, Mikasa. You’re part of our group, too. We need to do what’s right for everyone.”

Ymir slid down to the ground and crossed her legs. “Mule’s right,” she said. “We’re in this together, Fangs.”

Mikasa smiled, and there was a nostalgic kind of sadness in it. “We were,” she said. “But now things are different. We’ve all made sacrifices for each other in the past, and now it’s my turn. As much as I want to stay with all of you, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m doing this for us—so that we all can have a future.”

Jean didn’t know what to say. Mikasa’s words contained an ugly amount of sense. “But where will you go?” He finally asked. “What will you do?”

“Go north,” Mikasa answered with resolute immediacy, and Jean could tell from her tone that she’d reached that decision long before he’d gotten there. “I think I remember the way back to the place I parted from the vampires. I’ll try and reach them and then hopefully rejoin them.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Ymir pressed.

Mikasa shifted. “Many of the vampires I was traveling with were kind,” she said, hedging. “I will be glad to see them again. And I can’t deny that my existence there will be easier than my existence would have been if I’d been granted asylum here,” she added.

They all fell silent at that. No one could deny that she was right, after all.

Jean didn’t know how long the silence had dragged on when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Hey,” he blurted out. “Where’s Cap?”

“In Rose’s secondary prison block,” Clio answered. “He was held in contempt, so he won’t be released until the morning.”

Jean’s gaze darted involuntarily to Mikasa. “So that means…”

“Cap won’t get to say goodbye,” Ymir finished for him. She snorted. “Of all the bullshit I’ve witnessed in the last seventy-two hours, this might just take the cake. Reiss is a fucking rat.”

Clio’s lips twitched. “I believe that’s an insult to rats,” he murmured.

Mikasa still hadn’t said anything, and her eyes were carefully downcast. Jean felt a fresh stab of pity for the vampire. “Mikasa, do you want me to…I don’t know…pass Cap a note or something?” He cringed at how juvenile his offer sounded. “Or, I mean, I could…” He trailed off.

Mikasa saved him from further verbal stumbling. “Thanks, Jean, but it’s okay. Levi and I are…bonded. I’ll say goodbye to him in my own way.”

Something in the way she said _bonded_ made Jean think there was more to that particular story, but he didn’t ask. It wasn’t his place. “Okay,” he said simply.

Their conversation drifted to other things then, with a little prompting from Clio, and soon the mood in the small cell was much lighter. Jean even managed to make Mikasa crack a smile at one point, which made him feel a little better about life.

He rested his head against the wall, thinking. It was funny, really, how easily conversation flowed between the four of them. It twisted this way and that, crossed all kinds of topics, and it never required any great amount of effort to keep it going. It reminded Jean of his school days, of the times he and his group of friends would loaf around and share their stolen pack of smokes. They could spend hours just sitting and talking, discussing dreams and sharing stories about everything and nothing, totally oblivious to the world outside of their little circle.

This felt like that.

Unlike his younger self, though, this time Jean recognized how lucky he was to have people in his life like Ymir, Clio, and Mikasa. Real friends weren't something you came by every other day, and they were something to be cherished—especially when you'd been to hell and back with them.

It made the pain of knowing that he'd be saying goodbye to one of them forever all the more acute.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only pain Jean felt at that moment. The stiffness of his limbs had been a mild annoyance since he'd sat down in the cell, but now it was getting to difficult to ignore. He made a face and adjusted his legs. “Shit,” he complained. “My legs are not fans of this floor.”

Ymir shot him an incredulous look. “Really, Mule? You’re complaining about the floor?” She shook her head and sighed. “Typical. We’ve been in Rose for three days and the creature comforts have already made you soft.”

Jean colored. “Shut it, Ymir,” he muttered. He was about to tell Clio to go stuff it, too, because he could see a tiny smirk on the hybrid’s face, but then Clio reached behind him and pulled out two pillows. He tossed one to Jean and the other to Ymir. “Here,” he said.

Jean tucked the pillow under his numb backside, instantly feeling a twinge of relief shoot down his legs. “I’m surprised they give you more than one pillow in these cells,” he commented as he worked some feeling back into his limbs.

“They don’t,” Mikasa said. “Clio brought extras.” She gave the hybrid a small smile. “I really didn’t think we’d need them.”

Clio returned her smile. “I told you they’d come.” His voice softened. “That's what family does, Mikasa. They’re there for each other—no matter how hard the floor is,” he added, a good-humored twinkle flashing in his human eye.

Jean sighed. “You know, you’re all impossible. I mean it.” The sentiment would have been more believable if he hadn’t smirked, but Jean couldn’t help it; as much as it sometimes rankled him when Ymir needled at him, tonight he found it as annoying as he did endearing, and when he saw the way Mikasa had to bite back a laugh at Clio’s comment, whatever sourness he might have felt dissipated entirely. Mikasa – sort of like Cap, Jean had come to realize – wasn’t naturally disposed to be humorous, so it was always nice when someone made her smile or laugh. It was nice to see her happy.

_And now she’s going to leave. Forever._

Jean’s smile faded, and for a moment he wondered how Cap must feel. Jean would miss Mikasa dearly, but Cap...well, none of them – not even Clio – had bonded with Mikasa the way Cap had. Jean didn’t know exactly what had been going on between the two of them, but he knew it was something different, something deeper, than what Mikasa shared with the rest of them.

It was almost enough to make Jean ask Mikasa again if there wasn't something he could do, something he could give to Cap on her behalf, but as he saw how genuinely happy Mikasa looked at that moment, Jean decided against it. There was no reason to pull her out of her brief happiness and remind her of the fate that awaited her in the morning.

So instead, Jean adjusted his pillow, sighed softly, and joined back in the conversation, forcing himself to forget about the world outside of their tiny cell and family, forcing himself to just _be_ and to enjoy the dwindling time he had left with Mikasa.

And for a few wonderful, peaceful hours, he did.

 

**

Kai glanced over as Erwin pushed open the door to the old archives room, and the look on her face made it clear that she wasn’t happy to be disturbed—least of all by him.

She was sitting by herself at the conference table, a half empty bottle of scotch in front of her. That in of itself was surprising, given that liquor was banned and Kai wasn’t one for breaking rules, but her presence in the archives room at such an early hour of the day was even more surprising.

“I made it very clear that I wasn’t to be disturbed unless there was an emergency,” she said, looking back towards the pale dawn light coming in from the window. “Has something happened?”

Erwin closed the door behind him and walked over to the table. “No,” he said as he took a seat adjacent to Kai. “Nothing’s happened. Brianne told me you were up here.”

A muscle clenched in Kai’s jaw, and she raised the bottle of scotch to her lips. She took a generous mouthful and then coughed as she swallowed it down. “What do you want, Erwin?” She said finally.

“First, to say how sorry I am about Samar. I know you were close.”

“Yes,” Kai answered simply. “We were.” She glanced over at him, her brown eyes full of mistrust. “Why are you really here, Erwin?”

_Direct as always._

It was one of the many things he admired about the younger commander, although it made him sad to think that Kai found his condolences disingenuous, just a means to an end, when the reality was very much the opposite. He knew how hard it was to lose soldiers, and he knew what Kai must be going through—after all, he’d been in the business of losing soldiers for nearly as long as she’d been alive.

But trying to convince her that he was genuinely reaching out, one commander to another, would be useless; he knew, no matter what he said, that Kai wouldn’t believe him. It was just how she was.

So he moved on. “The vampire’s being escorted from the fortress,” he said. “It’s going smoothly, despite the light guard retinue. I must admit I’m surprised you only ordered three MP to escort her out.”

Kai’s lips twisted. “For whatever reason, this vampire clearly isn’t willing to jeopardize the others’ safety by making a scene, so I didn’t see the point in creating an unnecessary fanfare. Three guards will suffice.”

Erwin nodded. “She has been rather…amenable to our laws.”

“So it would appear.” Kai’s mouth tightened with impatience. “Was there anything else, Erwin?”

Erwin repressed a sigh and offered the young woman a polite smile. “No,” he said, rising to his feet. “I just wanted to keep you informed.”

Kai eyed him in a way that said she was seeing through his bullshit. “Right. Because Brianne and my own soldiers clearly couldn’t have relayed that message themselves.”

Erwin stared back at her, not intimidated by her biting sarcasm. Kai may have been able to see through his bullshit, be he could just as easily see through her caustic demeanor. She was hurting, and for reasons he wasn’t entirely comfortable admitting to, that fact bothered him.

“Kai,” he started, placing his hands on top of the chair he’d just vacated. “I admire what you did in the courtroom yesterday. You may not be happy with yourself right now, but you saved an innocent life.”

Genuine surprise flitted across Kai’s face. “I thought you of all people would have been disappointed by my vote,” she admitted. “You voted for the vampire’s amnesty, after all. I didn’t.”

“No, although I did amend my vote later to coincide with yours.” He paused. “Why _did_ you introduce the alternative vote?”

He half expected her to bristle and become defensive, but she didn’t. Kai’s shapely eyebrows drew together. “You probably think it was because I didn’t want to share a roof with a creature I despise, but it…it wasn’t that.” She looked up at him. “It would have been unjust to execute her, knowing what we now know, but I truly believe that her presence here would have caused chaos. Even if she wasn’t directly responsible, she could have easily become a scapegoat or catalyst for others to engage in violence or criminal activity. Or Reiss would have instigated something, which could have driven her or the Maria survivors to violence.” She leaned back in her chair. “I was thinking about what was best for our people,” she said.

Erwin gave her a half smile. “I thought as much,” he answered quietly. “And while I may not agree with all of your reasoning, I think your decision was good for Rose.”

Kai’s lower lip trembled for a second and then relaxed, a small but telling reaction that prompted Erwin to say one further thing.

“Your sister would have been proud,” he added softly.

Kai took a breath before meeting his eyes, and when she did, her mask was fully in place. “Have a good day, Erwin,” she said in a measured tone. Whether she was suppressing anger or pain wasn’t obvious, but Erwin suspected it was the latter.

In a lot of ways, she reminded him of Levi: cold, hard, and distrustful of the world. And beneath all that, consumed with suffering mostly of her own making.

Erwin hoped that one day Kai might come to realize that there were people worth trusting, people worth opening up to, as Levi had, but until then, all he could do was respect her boundaries.

“Enjoy your drink, Commander Ramirez,” he said as he turned away. “That’s a very fine vintage.”

When he left the archives room, Erwin closed the door behind him.

 

**

The guards escorted her from Rose in the early hours of the chilly, damp morning. Her friends were there, too, following behind her like a somber entourage as the guards led her to the very edge of Rose’s perimeter. No one spoke, and there was no sound other than the occasional squelch of muddy earth underfoot until they reached the outer gate and one of the guards unbarred the heavy metal door. “All right,” he said. His gaze traveled briefly over Mikasa. “You can take a few minutes to say your goodbyes. Let us know when you’re ready.”

Mikasa nodded, grateful, and then she watched as all three of her guards stepped away, giving her and her family a respectful few feet of privacy.

Everyone was there, except, of course, for the one person who counted most, but Mikasa didn’t allow herself to think about him. Not now.

She said her goodbyes to Panko, Bird, and Ralph first, followed by the two women she hadn’t really gotten to know and the twins, and then Ed came up and wrapped her in a massive hug. “Gonna miss you,” he said as he released her and Mikasa was once more able to breathe.

“I’ll miss you too,” she replied, surprised to find it was true. She and Ed had never been close, but she genuinely liked the gruff man.

Jillian’s goodbye was tenderer than Ed’s, and she cupped Mikasa’s cheek after hugging her. “You take care of yourself now, dear,” she said. “And always remember that you have people here who love you.”

Mikasa blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she said. “I will.”

Sasha and Connie came next, and although Mikasa knew baby Olivia wasn't with them because she was still in intensive care, she felt a stab of disappointment that she wouldn't get to see the baby one last time.

“Hey, Mikasa,” Sasha said, her brown eyes already filled with tears.

Mikasa looked at the couple for a long moment. They were the first two humans she had ever saved, and the first two to accept her into the group, and as such, they both had a special place in her heart. “Olivia is a lucky girl,” she said, smiling in spite of her teary eyes. “You’re going to make great parents.”

That was it for Sasha. She started crying and threw her arms around Mikasa’s neck. “I wish you didn’t have to go!” She sobbed. “It isn’t fair!”

Connie gently peeled Sasha away, letting her collapse into him as she continued to cry. “I may not express it at the same decibel level,” he joked, “but I feel the same way.” The humor faded from his eyes as they met Mikasa’s, replaced by fervency. “I know you won’t be here to see her grow up, but Olivia will know who you are. She’ll know what you did for us and what you mean to us.”

Mikasa felt her own tears start to fall. “Thank you, Connie. And thank you for what you said at the trial. If I were staying, I would be proud to be Olivia’s godmother.”

“I know.” Connie smiled warmly. “Goodbye, Mikasa,” he said, and Sasha composed herself enough to reach out and catch Mikasa’s hand with the one she didn’t have slung around Connie’s shoulders. “I’ll never forget you. Neither of us will.”

“Nor I you,” Mikasa said softly, brushing her tears away.

“Wait!” A voice called out.

Mikasa turned towards the sound, her eyes widening as she saw the slight frame of Dr. Armin Arlert pushing his way through the Maria survivors. He stopped in front of her, breathing hard, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

“Mikasa,” he said once he managed to catch his breath. “I was worried I was too late.” He held out his hand. “I wanted to give this to you before you left.”

Mikasa took the small item from him, her eyebrows drawing together as she studied the unexpected gift.

It resembled a rather large locket made entirely of what looked to be a fine, braided metal. There was a clasp on the side and a metal loop on top, where a chain could be threaded through.

Mikasa was baffled.

“Open it,” the doctor instructed.

She did, her fingers working at the clasp until the two halves opened. Then she sucked in a breath, her finger tracing over the delicate leather lining the inside as she realized what it was. She looked up at the doctor. “Is this…is this for my heart?”

Armin nodded. “It’s made of a very fine, reinforced steel mesh,” he said. “The next person who makes the mistake of shooting at you will have a very difficult time piercing through it, I’d imagine.”

Speechless, Mikasa untied the leather strings from around her neck and removed them from her worn out, damaged leather pouch. Then she placed the pouch inside the locket Dr. Arlert had given her.

It fit perfectly.

Filled with gratitude, Mikasa gently redid the clasp and slipped the leather straps through the metal ring at the top of the locket. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted as she secured the straps around her neck and ran her fingers over the sturdy yet delicate form of the metal locket.

Dr. Arlert tried for a smile. “It’s the least I could do after what you were put through here at Rose,” he said, his blue eyes filled with guilt. “On behalf of all the decent people within these walls, I am so very, very sorry.”

Mikasa reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s your kindness that I will remember, Dr. Arlert. Not other people’s hatred.” She let go of his hand and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

The doctor nodded. “Safe travels, Mikasa,” he replied, and then he turned and headed back towards the inner gate.

The last to come forward were Jean, Ymir, Clio, and Cody. The little girl seemed to realize that the grownups would want to say their goodbyes separately, so she walked up first, hugging Mikasa around the waist. “I’m glad you were with us,” she said, her words slightly muffled since she spoke them against Mikasa’s stomach. Then she pulled back and looked up, her amber eyes full of a maturity that didn’t match her age. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I always thought vampires were the bad ones, but now I know that humans can be just as bad.”

Mikasa crouched down and placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “These people aren’t bad people, Cody. They’re just scared of what they don’t understand.”

“They should _get_ to understand you, then,” the young Ral insisted. “Being afraid of something just because you don’t understand it doesn’t make any sense.”

Mikasa gave her a gentle smile. “You’re right; it doesn’t. But just remember that we were all like that when we first met, too—afraid of each other because we didn’t understand. So give these people a chance, okay? Maybe, if they have people like you to show them the way, they’ll learn.”

Cody pouted, but she didn’t argue. “Okay. But if you change your mind and want to come back and fight these guys, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Cody,” she said, touched and a bit awed by the little girl’s fierceness. _She'll be a force to reckon with one day, no doubt about it_ , Mikasa mused as Cody gave her a parting smile and walked over to stand with Jillian and the others.

“Last chance,” Ymir said as she materialized at Mikasa's side. “You sure you don’t want us to do something—to find a way for you to stay?”

Mikasa looked at the hunter’s freckled face, seeing the same resolve that had been present in Cody’s six-year-old eyes, and she knew that if she gave the word, her friends would defend her, no matter the cost.

Which was why, as tempting as it was, Mikasa had to leave. She didn’t want anyone else to get turned out because of her.

“No,” she answered firmly. “My mind is made up.” She gave Ymir the bravest smile she could muster. “Try not to worry about me. I won’t be alone like before. I’ll be with my own kind again.”

Ymir pursed her lips and then shrugged. “All right, then,” she relented. She punched Mikasa lightly in the shoulder. “Take care, Fangs.”

“You too,” Mikasa replied. “All of you,” she added, looking at Jean and Clio. “I’ll miss you.”

Jean stepped forward and drew her into a tight hug. “Goodbye, Mikasa,” he said into her hair.

Mikasa squeezed him tightly. “Goodbye, Jean.” She took a deep breath and released him, turning at last to Clio.

But the hybrid had moved off to the side and was talking to the guards. A few moments later, he caught her eye and jogged over.

“Clio...” Mikasa felt her resilience faltering as she looked into the familiar warmth of his hazel eye. “I…it’s time. I have to go.”

He gave her a solemn nod, his expression full of compassion. “I know. The guards said it would be okay for me to walk you out.” He extended his arm. “Ready when you are.”

Beyond grateful for the added strength, Mikasa slipped her arm into his and turned to face the others. She gave them a tearful smile and waved, knowing that if she tried to speak, the words would come out as a garbled mess. So instead, she just took one final moment to memorize their faces and hoped that they all knew how much she cared for them and how much she would miss them. Then she turned back to Clio. “Ready,” she lied.

Clio brought his other hand up and laid it on top of hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. Then he nodded to the guards and they raised the heavy crossbar and opened the door.

Mikasa didn’t look back as they passed through the gate and into the pale light of the early morning. She just clung to Clio and let him guide her forward, relying on him to help her take the first painful steps away from the people she cared about.

She flinched at the sound of the door being closed behind them.

Clio gave her a moment to compose herself, and then he slowly began walking them forward, towards the edge of the forest.

They passed by the place Mikasa had been shot, and continued on, neither saying a word until they reached the tree line. When they did, Mikasa slipped her arm from Clio’s and turned to face him.

“Thank you,” she said tremulously. “I don’t think I could have made it without you.” She meant the words in reference to leaving Rose, but in many ways, she meant them on a much deeper level. If it hadn’t been for Clio’s support, trust, and friendship over the long, arduous months of their journey, Mikasa wasn’t sure that things would have turned out the way they had.

The hybrid gave her a tender smile. “You’re one in a million, Mikasa. And our group wouldn’t be here without you. No matter how far apart we are, that will never change.” He pulled her to him, then, and Mikasa buried her face against his chest and wept, finally allowing herself to grieve for the family she was losing.

Clio let her cry, stroking her hair soothingly and holding her, being a pillar of strength for her one last time, and Mikasa clung to him until she had no more tears to cry. When she finally pulled back enough to glance up at him, she was astonished to see that Clio’s human eye was full of tears.

Chuckling softly, Clio brushed them away. “What?” He said. “You’re not the only one ruing this goodbye.”

Mikasa placed a hand over the hybrid’s heart, feeling the slow, steady beat of it. “I wish things could have been different,” she said, her voice broken and earnest. “I never imagined it would be so hard to leave a group of humans.”

Clio covered her hand with his, the tender smile reappearing on his face. “The harder the goodbye, the luckier we are,” he replied. “Not everyone gets to experience the kind of love and friendship that makes it this difficult to walk away.”

Mikasa returned his smile. “Wise words as always,” she murmured.

Clio shrugged and dropped his hand. “Just speaking from experience.” The expression on the human side of his face sobered up. “I know you didn’t want to talk about it last night, but I have to ask. What about Levi?”

Mikasa’s fingers moved automatically to the leather strings around her neck, and for the first time that morning, she allowed herself to reach out through their bond. There was a faint, directional pull to the north – strangely enough – but nothing else. The bond was quiet.

Loneliness began to seep in. “I’m grateful for the time we had,” she answered truthfully. “But I always knew that we didn’t have a future. Not in a world like this.” She looked up at Clio. “Will you keep an eye on him, though? Just…make sure he’s okay?”

Clio nodded. “Of course, Mikasa,” he promised.

Mikasa blinked back a fresh wave of tears and nodded. There was nothing else to say, really.

Except for the obvious thing that she’d put off for as long as she could.

“Goodbye, Clio.”

Clio pulled her into one final embrace. “Goodbye, Mikasa,” he murmured. “It's been a true privilege getting to know you.”

“You too,” Mikasa answered, meaning it. Exhaling, she pulled back and then stood there for a moment, rooted in place. She'd lost everyone else, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to watch Clio turn his back on her and return to Rose. She wasn't sure her heart could take it.

As usual, though, Clio seemed to sense what she needed. “You go on,” he said. “I’ll stay here and make sure you’re safe.”

His words managed to lift some of the weight from her shoulders, and she gave him a nod in reply, feeling marginally more able to cope with her departure.  _Thank you, Clio,_ she thought.  _For everything._ Then she took a deep, steadying breath and headed into the forest.

She glanced back once, just before the trees swallowed up the clearing, and sure enough, Clio was still standing there, watching her as he’d promised, silhouetted by the early morning sun.

Comforted slightly, Mikasa once more started forward, and this time she didn’t look back.

 

**

Being back in the woods was liberating, in a way. She’d spent her whole life there, and being able to breathe the fresh air and see the sky overhead and feel the rustle of the wind felt like home.

Well, _almost_ , anyway.

Mikasa didn’t let herself think too much about what she was leaving behind as she started out on her new journey, not wanting to feel the pain and the loneliness that were already creeping into her mind and bones. So instead she closed her eyes and focused all her senses on the earth and her surroundings, homing all her energy on the gift she’d inherited from her grandmother.

She hadn’t used it in months, but it was like slipping into a shirt she’d worn countless times—effortless, natural, comfortable. And while it may not have been the wisest move since seeing without eyes often drained her energy, it was a blessed distraction from the emotions roiling within her.

The ground, the trees, the air, the tug…

All at once, Mikasa paused. She’d been concentrating so much on her senses that she hadn’t even realized she’d been moving towards that faint pull in her awareness until it blossomed into something that wasn’t faint at all. It was solid, grounded, and real.

Mikasa opened her eyes.

And there he was, standing in front of her.

_Levi._

“How…?” She managed after a moment. She knew that Reiss had kept Levi under lock and key, purposely, to ensure that the two of them wouldn’t be allowed to say goodbye.

“Erwin. He let me out late last night during the guard change.”

The blond commander. Levi’s friend. That made sense, though it still didn’t explain why Levi was here.

“I’m sorry,” he continued when she failed to say anything. He looked miserable. “I should’ve kept my cool, should’ve—”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Mikasa interjected, stepping towards him. She gave him a sad smile. “You and I both know that this was the only real solution.”

Levi scowled. “It shouldn’t be,” he muttered darkly.

Mikasa sighed. “None of that matters now. I’m just…” Her eyes flickered over his muscular frame, moving from his downturned lips to the boomerang and other weapons once more secured to his belt, down to his clean, military boots, already feeling the ache of their impending separation. “I’m glad you found a way to come say goodbye.”

Levi’s hooded eyes met hers. “I’m not here to say goodbye, Mikasa. Not this time.”

Confusion and surprise overtook her. “What are you saying?” She asked, although she could sense his answer in their bond and in the way he was looking at her.

“You’re heading north,” he guessed, “to meet up with the vampires?”

Mikasa pressed her lips together. “That was my plan, yes.”

Levi nodded, his overgrown bangs falling into his eyes. “If you want to do that, you can, but I wanted you to know there’s another option.”

It was then that Mikasa saw the large knapsack resting on the ground by Levi’s feet. Her eyes widened as she realized the full implication of its presence. “You…” Her voice faltered. “You’d leave your people for me?”

His steel eyes softened. “I love you, Mikasa. Staying here without you…” He shook his head. “I don’t want that. I’ve lost you twice. I don’t think I can handle losing you a third time.”

Mikasa choked back a sob of happiness. Levi loved her. He _loved_ her. She’d wanted to hear those words for so long, wanted to know it wasn’t just the bond connecting them. And here was proof. He loved her, and he was willing to give up everything he knew so that they could have a chance at a future. Together.

Mikasa couldn’t speak past the emotions choking her.

Levi closed the distance between them and brushed the tears from her eyes. “But if you’d rather go and be with your own kind, I won’t stop you,” he said, voice heavy. “I just…I wanted you to know that this time, you have a choice.”

Mikasa knew he meant it. And she also knew what her answer was. “Where will we go?” She asked, her voice still thick with emotion.

The way the tension eased from Levi’s brow and shoulders was enough to make Mikasa laugh out loud.

She reached up and tenderly stroked the side of his face. “I love you too, Levi. Did you really think, given the choice, that I would choose to be with anyone else?”

The boyish smile she was beginning to grow very fond of appeared on his face. “The thought did cross my mind.” He leaned in and kissed her. “But I am sure as shit relieved that you didn’t.”

Mikasa stifled the urge to roll her eyes at his crassness. “So,” she repeated, “where will we go?”

Levi was quiet for a moment. “There’s this…well, I don’t know if it’s there anymore, but there was this town, west of here, on the ocean. My mother lived there when she was a child and she told me about it before she…” His eyes clouded over for a moment. “Like I said,” he went on, “I don’t know if it’s still there, but it always sounded like a…a good place. A peaceful place.”

The ocean. Mikasa had never seen an ocean before, but she’d heard others speak of it. Endless water stretching far out into the horizon, the sound of waves breaking on the shore, the smell of salt…it had always sounded a bit too calm and serene for Mikasa’s tastes when she’d been a child, but now…

Now it sounded perfect.

“Let’s go there,” she decided.

Levi’s expression brightened. “Really?”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes. It sounds like a beautiful place to make a home.”

Levi smiled then, really and truly smiled, and then he picked up the knapsack he’d brought and hoisted it onto his shoulders. Mikasa reached out her hand, and Levi took it. “Okay, then,” he said, gaze moving towards the distance they would now have to cover. “The ocean it is.”

In answer, Mikasa threaded her fingers through his.

Levi glanced over at her. “Ready?” He asked.

 _I’ve been ready since long before you asked, Levi,_ she thought. She smiled. “Ready.”

And hand in hand, with the morning sun at their backs, they headed west.

 

 

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly three years and 200k+ words later...all I can say is that I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed working on it! For those of you who have been following this since 2015 (anyone?), thank you, tremendously, for sticking with this. And for all of you who started reading this somewhere along the way and stuck with me, _thank_ you. From the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> I really did pour a lot into this story, so please (pretty please with all manner of things on top) consider leaving a comment! Whether you're a first time or long time reader, I would love to hear from you. It's always rewarding to know that there are people out there who enjoy my stories, so even if you just drop a word or two, please know that it will be very much appreciated. 
> 
> Also, if you have questions about this universe, feel free to hit me up on tumblr (whispermethis), or send me a PM on ff.net (same username as AO3). I'm always happy to chat.
> 
> While this is the end of The Western Passage, it is not the end of this story. I will be writing a sequel to this (and I hope some of you will come back and read that when I start posting it)! I already have some great things planned and I am super excited to start working on it (and I hope some of you are also excited about it, but hey, maybe you're satisfied with this ending and that's cool too), BUT I haven't even started outlining yet, so it will be a while before I start actually writing it. Just know that it is in the works and will feature more of Levi, Mikasa, Clio, and the gang, plus a few new characters...and more smut. And cursing. ~~Because when do I ever write anything that doesn't have a veritable shit ton of 'fucks' in it? Like, seriously? I'm pretty sure the answer is never, but oh well. We all have our vices, right? Fuck.~~
> 
> ANYWAY, thanks again, and I sincerely hope to see you all in Part 2! :)
> 
> Until then, cheers! <3
> 
> LW


End file.
